


Hold on to Me

by kesdax



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bo leaves the the Yule party with more questions than answers, more secrets and lies, and the only person sticking by her side is the last person anyone expects. Season 4 AU after 4x08.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after Groundhog Fae.  
> Nothing belongs to me except any and all mistakes.

Bo stared at the mysterious box, hoping that if she concentrated hard enough it would start to mean something, that her missing memories would somehow be triggered by the ominous black smoke swirling in the jar. After what felt like days, and a headache slowly forming between her eyes, Bo dumped the newly acquired box onto the passenger seat and started the engine.

Reliving the same night over and over again had taken a lot out of her. She glanced at herself in the rear view mirror – _a girl really needs her beauty sleep_ , she thought, the bags under her eyes doing nothing to heighten her succubus charm. Not particularly enthralled by the idea of sleeping in the backseat of her car, Bo steered the vehicle in the direction of the Dal. The bar would be empty, Trick only closing it for Yule, the only time she can ever recall him closing the bar for anything. And considering her grandfather was currently passed out in her bathtub, Bo was sure he wouldn’t mind her taking a nap on his couch.

Bo parked the car down a side street, contemplated abandoning the box, but thought better of it. This wasn’t exactly the safest spot in town, and even if she had no clue to what it actually meant, she knew it was important.

Expecting the Dal to be fully locked up, Bo pulled out the spare key Trick had given her. She stopped short when she saw that the door already stood slightly ajar, a faint light seeping through the crack. Immediately on her guard, Bo pulled out the dagger she always kept in her boot for emergencies. 

_Who the hell is stupid enough to break into the Dal on Yule?_

Bo stepped cautiously forward, box tucked firmly under one arm, dagger in the other hand and stepped confidently into the bar, ready for a fight. She stopped suddenly when she spotted familiar blonde hair, a half empty bottle of bourbon resting on the bar top and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Tamsin.” Bo slipped the dagger back into her left boot, feeling like an idiot as the Valkyrie smirked over her drink. “How the heck did you get in here?” Bo asked, masking her unease with a snarky quip. Since admitting her fear out loud, finally, even if it was to some weird ass backwards Christmas fae, Bo felt off her game.

“Picked the lock,” said Tamsin, round a mouthful of bourbon. “You pick up a few things being a cop.”

“You and Kenzi should trade tips,” said Bo flatly, dumping her box onto the bar and reaching over to fetch herself a glass. She sat next to the blonde fae and poured herself a generous measure. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Nowhere else to go,” said Tamsin with that look in her eye that Bo couldn’t quite read; a quick flash of something almost like regret before that infamous Valkyrie hard exterior went back up. Bo had seen it weakened somewhat tonight, but it seemed the Valkyrie had built her walls back up, back to the same old Tamsin before she was reborn. It saddened Bo a little, to see all that progress backtracked; she liked this new Tamsin.

Bo’s mind immediately flashed back to the party, to those stolen kisses. She shook her head, took another deep drink, willing the images away before her succubus instincts could kick in fully.

“So, what are you doing here?” Tamsin asked, staring at the wall behind the bar. Bo wondered if the dark fae was that curious in Trick’s booze collection, or if she was just avoiding her gaze.

“Nowhere else to go,” said Bo, and was glad to see a small smile on the Valkyrie’s lips. “Man, it sucks to be dark,” said Bo. They clinked glasses in mutual self-pity and took a swig.

“Must be worse for you,” said Tamsin, staring deep into her empty glass. “You didn’t exactly make this choice yourself.”

“No,” agreed Bo, “but neither did you. Not this you anyway.” Bo stared at the Valkyrie, awed by how young and old she looked all at the same time. It was hard to get her head round the fact that the vulnerable woman next to her was the same Officer Slamsin who had spent so much of her time a few months ago trying to lock her up in a cell. They had both come a long way since then.

“Past mistakes in past lives catching up with me again,” said Tamsin, pouring more of the amber drink into her glass. “It’s always the same.”

Definitely a hint of regret. Even in side profile, Bo could see it. And they said she sucked at reading people. She thought of reaching out, comforting Tamsin with a warm hand, but her own fear and regret, coupled with the confusion of what all those kisses meant, stilled Bo’s hand.

Despite their talk, both on the couch and in the car after the confrontation with Krampus, a lot was still left unsaid between them. Bo didn’t think she was ready to face that yet, whatever feelings (because there was most definitely _something_ ) brimming beneath the surface. Not with things still left unresolved with both Dyson _and_ Lauren. Then there was the Wanderer and that goddamn box.

As if reading her thoughts, Tamsin broke the awkward silence that was quickly building up between them. Bo was grateful for the change in subject, but terrified of where it might lead to.

“What’s with the box?”

Bo sighed. “A little Yuletide gift to myself.”

Tamsin raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”

“Apparently during my little joy ride on the death train, I sent myself a little something to the dark fae compound.” Bo pushed the box closer towards the Valkyrie. No point in hiding it now. Besides, as far as Bo knew, Tamsin was the only person who knew anything about this Wanderer shit. If anyone was going to help her figure out what the hell was going on, it was Tamsin.

Tamsin shot her a confused look before carefully opening the box and taking a peek at what lay inside. “Holy shit,” said Tamsin, slamming the lid back down and pushing the box away from her as if the thing inside was going to jump out and grab her. “Whatever you do, do not open that jar,” said Tamsin, green eyes boring into brown as if searching for a promise. It was the first time the Valkyrie had really looked at her since she arrived at the Dal.

Tamsin’s reaction to the contents in the mystery box scared the shit out of Bo, but it didn’t dampen her curiosity. “Why? What the hell is this stuff?” Bo made to open the box again, but Tamsin slammed her hand down on top of hers, preventing her from the lifting the lid.

Tamsin shook her head, the fear was bright in her eyes, but there was a hint of ruthlessness as well. “That black smoke is some serious bad news. But that’s not the question you should be asking.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bo, unnerved by the intensity radiating from the Valkyrie, her fear rising sharply in her throat. All those things she admitted while strapped to a conveyor belt in Krampus’ candy factory echoing in her head.

All that fear, of the Wanderer, of what she might become, what she might do, it rose within her, threatened to consume her until there was nothing left, no succubus, no Bo, just fear. In that moment, Bo felt more lost than ever before. Then suddenly, almost as quickly as it had risen, it vanished. Bo felt Tamsin squeeze her hand, give her _that_ look, the same look that had flashed across the Valkyrie’s face in between kisses, the looks Bo tried to pretend weren’t there each time the loop reset.

Bo shook her head, took a deep drink, draining her glass. “What do you mean?” she repeated.

Tamsin looked away, let go of the succubus’ hand. Bo felt the fear fighting its way through again, but Bo forced it away.

“Bo, you’ve been dark fae for about a month now,” said Tamsin, her eyes hardening, “why are you only getting this box now?”

Bo swallowed. “Kenzi said the box was sitting next to Dyson.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Tamsin, shaking her head. “Dyson’s light fae, he wouldn’t get anywhere near this thing if it was in the dark fae compound.”

“Not Dyson,” said Bo, more to herself than to Tamsin. Suddenly it all made sense; why they’d left her in the car, why they were acting so weird and shifty in her room. “Lauren.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bo called an impromptu meeting of the Happy Sunshine Gang as soon as the sun came up. Tamsin watched as Kenzi and Hale strolled in, hand in hand, barely taking their eyes off each other. Tamsin suppressed the urge to barf, but couldn’t help smiling a little at how happy they both looked; Kenzi deserved it.

Tamsin shook her head. There was a time when Kenzi’s happiness wouldn’t have even been a whispering thought in her head, but things were different since her rebirth, her priorities had shifted, and suddenly it seemed all those things she did in her past lives were insignificant compared to what she could do in this life, her _last_ life. Especially with this family of sorts behind her, supporting her. It was a whole new feeling for Tamsin; it both confused and terrified her, but made her feel safe, like she belonged.

The old Tamsin would never have stood for all these mushy feelings. She would have fought it, drowned everything in alcohol until it went away.

“What up, BoBo?” asked Kenzi, spying the succubus at the bar. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the day after Christmas is strictly for playing with your new toys?” She eyed Hale up and down at this, her fingers stroking his chest delicately.

“Ew,” muttered Tamsin, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll explain when everyone else gets here, Kenz,” said Bo. “But it’s important, trust me.”

Kenzi shot Tamsin a questioning look. She shook her head; anything to put off the inevitable shit storm that was heading their way. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed – Tamsin could practically see the steam coming out of the succubus’ ears as she stared hard at the box still sitting on the bar. 

They hadn’t touched it since Bo’s deductions; since she had figured out who must have kept it from her. Lauren may have her reasons, Tamsin thought, whatever they were, but it was still a pretty shitty thing to do. It wasn’t really the reasoning behind why she did it that Tamsin cared about anyway. It was the consequences. That look of betrayal on Bo’s face, that’s the bit that Tamsin cared about.

That was the bit that hurt.

"Well, okay," said Kenzi, "but can we make it quick? Me and my man have got plans."

"Hell yeah, we do," chimed in Hale. "Chocolate flavoured body paint and a pair of standard issue handcuffs." He then proceeded to shove his tongue down the Russian girl's throat.

"Again," said Tamsin, "ew."

“Like I said, I’d rather wait until every-“ Bo was cut off by the door to the Dal swinging open: the good doctor and the wolfman looking a little worse for wear.

“Rough night?” said Tamsin.

Dyson peered at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Tamsin?”

“Howdy partner? Long-time no see,”

"Where the hell have you been? We've all been worried sick!"

" _We_ have?" said Kenzi.

Dyson coughed. "Well, Kenzi was. Practically cried every day since you left."

"Hardly," said Kenzi, rolling her eyes. "Well... maybe a little."

Tamsin grinned. Like actually fucking grinned. It was kind of embarrassing, so she looked away, avoided their gazes and pretended there was no fuzzy feeling, no tears in her eyes. This was ridiculous. This was not her. This was not the way of the Valkyrie.

Dyson smirked. "No joke, it's good to have you back, partner."

"Hey, what about me?" said Hale, looking affronted. "I thought I was your favourite partner?"

"Well, for one, she dresses better than you," said Dyson. " _And_ she can hold her drink."

"Are you saying I can't hold my booze? I can hold my booze," retorted Hale. " _I_ wasn't the one that passed out before midnight on Yule, just saying."

"Yeah, whatever dude."

"Can we skip this little love fest," said Lauren, uncharacteristically snarky for the dorky scientist. Tamsin looked at her; she could see why Bo was so madly in love with her. But there was a darkness there too, hidden so deep that you could almost pretend to ignore it. Tamsin could smell it. It was the same scent that washed a thousand battlefields in blood. It was the scent of revenge and anger and guilt.

For a second, Lauren's almost is as scary as the Wanderer, and just as quick as it came its gone and she's Lauren again; the human doctor that would do anything to protect the woman she loves. Even if that meant betraying her.

Tamsin glanced at Bo. The hurt was still there, not even three bottles from Trick's top shelf had dimed it. Tamsin felt the urge to reach out, to make it all go away, to turn back the clock; never accept that stupid bounty in the first place. She wished she never found the impossible woman that should not have been real.

"Yes, lets," said Bo, her voice hard.

"What's this about, Bo?" asked Lauren, her eyes staring past Bo, to the box sitting on the bar looking so innocent, as if it contained sunshine and rainbows and not the very essence of the devil himself.

Tamsin wondered if the doctor would try to deny it, lie her way out, tell Bo what she wanted to hear to make everything okay. Instead, she was surprised by what came out of Lauren's mouth, how flat and defeated she sounded.

"So you found it?"

“Yeah, I found it,” said Bo, some of that hardness fell away as she looked at Lauren, as the realisation that she wasn’t even going to try to deny it started to sink in.

“Wait, found what?” said Kenzi, looking around the Dal in confusion.

“Bo,” said Dyson, “you have to know that we only had your best interests at heart.”

“You…,” breathed Bo. “You knew about this?”

“Bo…”

“Why?” Bo’s voice cracked and so did something inside Tamsin. It was like the weight of all her many lifetimes breaking at once. She stepped forward without thinking, closer to the succubus, desperate to do or say something, anything that could take that look go away.

“Why did you keep this from me?”

“Bo,” said Lauren, her voice surprisingly calm, controlled. “We only wanted to discuss how best to handle this. I-“

“Why was there even a discussion?” said Bo, the hurt turning swiftly into anger. Her eyes tinged blue, but for once, it wasn’t out of lust. “You should have told me.”

“Bo, the Wanderer kidnapped you, marked you, stole your memories,” said Lauren. “Whatever that thing is in that box, it terrifies me.”

“That thing,” said Bo, teeth clenched, “may be the only chance I have of recovering those memories.”

“Bo, how do you know that?” asked Dyson, his voice was quiet, sad, that puppy dog look. Tamsin would have felt sorry for him if she wasn’t so pissed. The Officer Slamsin still deep down inside of her wanted to roll her eyes, punch him in the face and tell him to man the fuck up.

“Her,” said Lauren.

Tamsin looked up. Their eyes met; there was no love lost between them. Nothing there but resignation. Even the hate that had been in Lauren’s eyes when she’d slapped the Valkyrie after her Brazenwood confession was gone.

“You’re trusting _her_ ,” said Lauren. “The person who led the Wanderer to you in the first place?”

And there it was, out in the open. They’d all guessed it, probably, but to hear it out loud was something else. Tamsin looked away. She did not want to see the look of betrayal in Kenzi’s eyes. In any of their eyes.

“Yeah, I trust her,” said Bo, with so much clear clarity that it caused Tamsin’s head to whip up.

She could feel the tears burning in her eyes and suddenly Kenzi was by her side, squeezing her arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” Kenzi whispered.

Tamsin shook her head. She did not deserve this, any of it. Not Kenzi’s love. Not Bo’s trust. She couldn’t do this. The urge to run, to pull away was so strong she could feel her inner Valkyrie rising to the surface, wanting to be unleashed.

Tamsin closed her eyes, swallowed hard, forced herself to push it away.  
“You wanna know why?” asked Bo. “Because she’s the only one who has been telling me the truth. About the Wanderer, about this...” Bo reached for the box, pulled out the jar, with its dark, swirling smoke, churning inside.

Tamsin flinched. If Bo dropped that thing, they were all in deep shit.

“What the fae is that?” said Kenzi.

“A ticket,” said Bo, a glint of something wild in her eyes. “My ticket back to that train. Back to the Wanderer.”

“Bo, this is insane,” said Dyson, and the weight of his words fell heavy on Tamsin’s ears. Because they all thought it. They all though Bo was crazy, to risk her life like this.

To Tamsin, it made perfect sense. After she had been reborn, when Kenzi was taking care of her (raising her) Tamsin didn’t know who she was, what she was. All she knew was that she was dark. And that scared the shit out of her. Because dark equalled bad. She saw it in their eyes, heard it in the whispered late night discussions when Bo and Kenzi thought she was safe and sound, upstairs, asleep and couldn’t hear them.

She was dark, a monster. The harbinger of death. She had no idea what she was capable of, in those early days, when she was still growing. And it was terrifying: the thought of not knowing what she could do. The very idea that at any moment she could turn full Valkyrie and hurt Kenzi, hurt Bo.

And it was that feeling of fear in the pit of her stomach, the same fear that had been all over Bo’s face last night after Krampus that had prompted her to tell Bo about that black smoke, what it could, how it could be the key to finding those lost memories. It was the fear that urged Tamsin into telling Bo to use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I don't really know where this is going. It started off as 4x08 post fic and now it's sort of morphed into bridge-the-gap-between-4x08-and-4x09-fic because 2 weeks is just too long to wait and I've been speculating like hell and now the entire thing is going to get jossed in 5 days.
> 
> But hopefully you are all enjoying it anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has morphed from a post-ep fic, to a bridge-the-gap-between-episodes fic to how-I-see-the-rest-of-season-going-down fic. Basically I had two other ideas for a valkubus story that I've now merged into one with 2 sequels. I kid you not. I don't even know what I am doing. I don't have time to write all this. I have a full time job and I'm doing a masters degree. This is insane.
> 
> Enjoy.

The Dal had been quiet all day. One look from the slightly tipsy (and unfortunately not -quite- yet-ragingly-drunk) Valkyrie was enough to send even the nastiest looking under fae packing and crawling back into their hole.

Tamsin preferred the quiet. She liked to drink in peace. Besides, she had a lot to think about, now that she was alone, away from the others.

The gang had gone their separate ways, agreeing to disagree on the matter and Bo, grudgingly, acceding to sleep on things, with a look of determination in her eyes. Bo was going to go after the Wanderer, despite what she told her friends.

And Tamsin was going to let her.

Not that she was under any illusions that she could actually make Bo do _anything_. If there was one thing that Tamsin had learned about the Succubus over the past year, it was that she didn’t let _anyone_ tell her what she could and couldn’t do, even if that meant defying both dark and light fae, remaining unaligned and fighting for humans. It was one of the things that Tamsin admired most about the succubus, made _her_ want be a better person, tell the Morrigan where she could shove her dark fae loyalties.

But Tamsin wasn’t about to do that any time soon. Having a side, even if she wasn’t feeling particularly dark this lifetime around, was safer that having no alliances. Not with the Wanderer on his way. Not that he gave a damn about dark or light. The only thing that concerned the Wanderer was getting what he wanted most.

Tamsin shivered. The door to the Dal banged open, bringing with it a cool summer breeze. The day after Yule always seemed colder somehow.

She knew it was him without even turning around, could feel the cold, hard stare on her back. The Blood King. Well, it was his way station after all.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“Having a drink,” said Tamsin, lifting up her glass. “What does it look like?”

“We’re closed,” said Trick, moving round to behind the bar.

Tamsin watched him carefully. His movements were slow, cautious. His skin was pasty, rough around the edges – the after effects of his little binged in the bathtub. And he was still wearing that ridiculous sweater. And despite all that, he still looked every inch the fearsome Blood King; he still stood with authority, the leader of all fae.

“Bo’s going to go after the Wanderer,” said Tamsin. She took another drink; easier to avoid his eye.

“ _What_?”

“Sent herself a little message from limbo.”

“We have to stop her,” said Trick.

Tamsin chuckled, low and without any humour. “We?” she said, eyebrow raised. “There is no ‘we’, Blood King.” Tamsin leaned forward, “and Bo can, and will do, whatever the hell she wants.”

“You pledged fealty,” said Trick.

Tamsin laughed genuinely this time. “That was a long time ago. Things change.”

“So you do have your memories back, then,” said Trick.

“ _All_ of them,” Tamsin acknowledged. The glint of fear in the Blood King’s eye was only a small satisfaction.

“You would really dishonour – “

“Yes,” said Tamsin firmly. “Bo deserves to know the truth.”

“And why do you care?” asked Trick. “I hope you‘re not under any delusions that you and her…”

Tamsin glared, fist clenching tightly around her glass. She was under no delusions about anything. Bo was her friend, the first real and true friend that Tamsin had. So that’s what Tamsin would do: be a friend. Even if that meant ignoring when her stomach lurched every time Bo looked her, passing off that tingling feeling when Bo kissed her as nothing more than succubus charm.

“So you found them; your own kind?” asked Trick. “Typical Valkyries: the merest sniff of war and they come crawling out of their holes.”

“You think you know my kind so well,” said Tamsin coldly. “You know nothing. Valkyries look after their own.”

“Is that so,” said Trick, “then where are they?”

Tamsin looked away. He was right. Valkyries looked after their own, but only when their own stuck around long enough to be worth looking after. Tamsin had walked away too many times now. There were no Valkyries hiding round the corner, waiting to rescue her when this all went to hell.

Tamsin drained her glass. “Bo deserves to know the truth about what’s coming.” She stood up; looking down at the Blood King, their difference in height didn’t make him any less formidable. “It would be better if she heard it from you.”

Tamsin walked away, but Trick’s next words stilled her.

“And what is coming? You know, don’t you? How this ends.”

Tamsin closed her eyes. All those memories, all those past lives. 3000 years was a lot to remember. But it was there, the first time she met Trick, the Blood King in all his glory. What he asked her to do.

“You read it, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice low, ruthless. “You’re part of this.” 

It wasn’t a question. Tamsin didn’t need to turn around to know that he would be sporting that bitter look of anger, inconceivable that anyone would dare to betray him, the Blood King, of all people. It was the same look from all those years ago, except this time he was wearing that ridiculous yule sweater and playing the part of the grumpy old grandfather. Tamsin didn’t believe the act, and she suspected that no one else did either.

Still, she was afraid him. She was a Valkyrie and he was a Blood King, how could she not be? And he was most definitely up to something. She didn’t know what and she didn’t know what his interests were. She believed (hoped) that his interests lay with Bo, that he would do anything to protect his granddaughter. But she couldn’t be sure.

“Think about what I said,” said Tamsin, because she’d be dammed if she let him see her fear.

~~

“Shit,” Bo muttered. It was dark and she sucked at this sneaking about crap. No one had bothered to clean up after the yule party – a combination of too hung over and too worried about Bo’s mysterious gift – and some idiot just left the smashed glasses after the last ‘opa!’ lying about apparently.

Bo hissed as she pulled a bit of broken glass out of her right foot. It stung, but she’d had worse before. She tossed the bit of glass, now covered in her blood, onto the makeshift buffet table and pulled on her leather boots, just in case there were any more death traps on her living room floor. She readjusted the backpack over her shoulder, tucked her dagger in her right boot for easy access and crept cautiously towards the front door.

Her heels clipped noisily on the wooden floor – were they always _that_ loud? Bo cringed inwardly. So much for a quiet escape. She crept on, hoping that Kenzi was in a deep slumber and not lying wide awake worrying.

The door handle turned before Bo even reached it. Her heart skipped a beat: had Kenzi snuck out to see Hale and was now sneaking back in before Bo could notice? No, Bo hadn’t slept a wink; she would have heard Kenzi leave. Or maybe the Russian thief was just better at this stealth thing than she was.

Bo let out a sigh of relief when a very confused Valkyrie walked into the clubhouse and closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” said Tamsin. “It’s like two in the morning.”

“What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?” said Bo. “And keep your voice down; I don’t want to wake Kenzi.”

“Okay, chill. You’re the one that’s whispering insanely loud.”

“Where have you been anyway?” asked Bo.

“The Dal,” Tamsin said, slipping out of her leather jacket and draping it unceremoniously on the back of the couch.

“This entire time?”

Tamsin shrugged. “There’s booze there.”

Bo watched the blonde as she started picking at the leftovers on the buffet table. She wondered if Tamsin would try to stop her. She knew she could easily match her in fight, but not if Tamsin went full Valkyrie.

“So,” said Tamsin casually, looking at Bo out of the corner of her eye, a smirk on her face. Yeah, she knew exactly what Bo was up to. “Going somewhere?”

“What gave me away?” said Bo, not really in the mood for the exchange of some friendly banter. She just wanted to get the hell out of there and find the Wanderer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Tamsin, “maybe it’s because you look like you’re dressed for a fight. The fact you’ve got that black jar tucked away in that bag.”

Bo tightened her grip on the strap, reassuring herself that the jar was still safe and confirming Tamsin’s suppositions at the same time.

“Or maybe,” Tamsin continued, “it’s because of that burning need to know, to reclaim what you’ve lost. Those stolen memories. Because until you have them back you can’t possibly know who you are.”

Bo swallowed. Sometimes it scared her how well Tamsin could get inside her head. “And you know that how?” Bo asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.

Tamsin smiled forlornly. “Because, until a few weeks ago, that was me.”

“Oh,” said Bo, as realisation hit. She had never thought about what it was like for the young Tamsin, aware that she had lived all those past lives but having no memory of them, no idea who she was. “I didn’t realise.” She hadn’t because she had been too wrapped up in herself and her own shit to notice (or care) about anyone else. And here she was, doing it again.

“Tamsin-“

“That smoke won’t take you to him,” said Tamsin, “not directly.”

Bo shook her head, caught off guard. “But you said…”

“It’ll summon his little minions,” said Tamsin. “The undead. They’re crafty little bastards, watch out for them.”

“The undead?” said Bo.

Tamsin sighed. “Neither existing here or there: the undead.”

“Like zombies?” asked Bo, her mind trying to decipher what Tamsin was telling her.

Tamsin rolled her eyes. “Not exactly. They can’t survive in this world and they can’t get to the afterlife. They’re from the inbetween.”

“The inbetween?” said Bo, not entirely sure if Tamsin was messing with her or not.

“Kind of like limbo. It’s where that train you were on is.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Bo. There was still that wariness there – that small part of her that still wasn’t sure how much she should trust Tamsin. There was an innocence about her now, but the tough as nails attitude hadn’t completely gone away. What if it was all an act? What if she was still working for the Wanderer? Had Tamsin really been at the Dal all day and all night?

“I’m a Valkyrie,” said Tamsin, as if that was an answer. As if that wasn’t cryptic at all. But Bo remembered the look on Tamsin’s face when she first found her at the yule party (before that kiss), the tears rolling freely down the Valkyrie’s pale cheeks as she confessed the bounty she had accepted from the Wanderer. The side of her that the old Tamsin would never have let Bo see, was so open now that Bo couldn’t help but trust her. She didn’t have a choice really. At this point, Tamsin was the only one that could help. She had to have faith that that trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Okay,” said Bo. “And these undead… they’ll do what exactly?”

“Take you there. To limbo; your death train. The closer you are to where you got off the first time, the easier it will be.”

Bo nodded in understanding. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “You have no idea…”

“Just make it back safe,” said Tamsin. She gripped Bo’s hand tightly. And there was that look again; the one that made Bo feel like the Valkyrie was seeing everything, inside and out, looking at the real Bo. Whoever that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that scene with Trick and Tamsin wasn't too confusing. All will be revealed in future chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be writing this fairly fast at the moment, mainly because I want to get the next couple of chapters written before the next episode airs because a) my ideas could be right on par (highly unlikely) or b) my ideas are nothing like the show and either way I'll probably lose all motivation.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Saying Kenzi was pissed about Bo’s late night departure was an understatement. Tamsin listened to her rant on their way to the Dal. Most of it was in Russian, but Tamsin got the gist of it. Not to mention the earful she got when she admitted she’d told Bo how the black smoke worked. Tamsin really hoped Kenzi was joking when she said she was grounded for a month with no TV.

“So, remind me again why we’re going to the Dal?” asked Tamsin. She wasn’t quite ready to face Trick so soon, not after their conversation last night, and especially not when he found out where Bo had gone.

“To meet the others,” said Kenzi. “If Bo is determined to do this, we’re not going to let her do it alone.”

Tamsin smiled sadly. She didn’t have  the heart to tell Kenzi that she was pretty sure that the smoke was only a ticket for one. Bo _would_ have to do this alone whether any of them liked it or not.

They entered the bar, Tamsin was glad to see no sign of Trick, but worried what he  was up to all the same. Kenzi spotted Lauren and Dyson and guided Tamsin towards their table. The wolf and the doctor were deep in discussion, for once not a hissed disagreement but an actual civil conversation. Friendly even.

When had that happened? Tamsin remembered Dyson on many occasions drunkenly wittering on and on about the doctor, how she wasn’t right for Bo, how their relationship would never work and how Bo would just end up hurt in the end, how the doctor was always out to get him, blah, blah, blah.

That was in the early days of their partnership, when they were still trying figure each other out, work out how they were going to make the dark vs. light thing work. And of course, they had dealt with it the only way either of them knew how: by getting ragingly drunk and telling each other stupid stories about idiotic fae they’d caught, fights they’d gotten into, all the time trying to outdo each other. She couldn’t remember when it had stopped being a competition and they just became partners, when their talks had turned serious (well as serious as the old Tamsin could get) and they started to trust each other without realising it.

But now the doctor and Dyson were united in their mutual desire to protect Bo, even if they were going about it in all the wrong ways.

“Guys, I’m so glad you’re hear,” said Kenzi. “We’ve got  a rogue BoBo situation going on so I’m going to need all hands on deck.”

“What?” said Dyson. “Kenzi slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Bo took the black smoke and is on her way to meet the Wanderer,” said Tamsin calmly. “She’s got about  a six hour head start.”

“You let her go?” said Lauren outraged. “Alone?”

“I didn’t _let_ Bo do anything,” said Tamsin.

“Can we skip the placing blame on someone and figure out what we’re going to do?” said Kenzi. Tamsin shot her a grateful look.

“Kenzi’s right,” said Dyson. “We need to help Bo. We have to stop this Wanderer.”

“How?” said Lauren. “We don’t even know where she is.”

Tamsin sighed. “She’ll be near where she got off the train.”

“Great,” said Dyson sarcastically, “only a three mile wide radius in a wooded area. That won’t be hard to find.” Dyson whipped out his phone and started dialling.

“What are you doing?” asked Lauren.

“You’re not the only one with skills, Doctor,” said Dyson. “If Bo has her phone on her, my guys should be able to track it.”

“Mad cop skills,” said Lauren, “got it.”

“Great,” said Kenzi, as Dyson stepped away to make his call. “You guys go after Bo, make sure the Wanderer doesn’t kill her.”

Lauren nodded as Dyson hung up and came back over. “We should get going.”

Kenzi grabbed Dyson arm. “You bring my bestie back.” He nodded.

“So,” said Tamsin as she watched Team Wolfpants leave the bar, “what are we going to do?”

“Talk to Trick,” said Kenzi. “He’s got mad skills of his own that might help.”

Tamsin smiled nervously. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Bobo’s his granddaughter,” said Kenzi, “he has to.”

~~

“Trick? Trick, you here?” said Kenzi.

There was no sign of the Blood King; his little hobbit hole was empty, bar all the trinkets and books.

“Now what?” asked Tamsin. Something about this room sent a chill through her body; like the Blood King was watching, waiting to catch her out at something so he could expose her to all and sundry for what she really was. _A hunter. A killer. A coward._

Tamsin shook her head. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

“Why?” said Kenzi. “Bo’s been saying for weeks that Trick must know something about this Wanderer dude. Now’s our chance to have a little look around.”

“A look around for what exactly?” asked Tamsin, watching as Kenzi began to rummage through Trick’s endless piles of books.

“I don’t know…” said Kenzi. “A clue. Some insight into the Wanderer, who he really is. You were a cop once, this is your area of expertise.”

Trick probably did know more about the Wanderer than anyone, Tamsin thought, but she doubted he’d keep anything lying around. He was too secretive for that. Whatever he knew, he clearly didn’t plan on sharing it with Bo or the rest of the gang anytime soon. But he was up to something, she was sure of that much.

Tamsin looked around the room. She had only been in here once or twice during her last lifetime, and not for any length of time long enough to study it properly. Trick was a collector, that much was obvious. The glass cabinets full of objects and trinkets had to be worth a lot of cash on the fae black market. And some of it was old, really old.

And then there were his books; the fae encyclopaedias, the history books that told of the fae during their most darkest and desperate times. Then there was the blood books; those massive tomes of fae law, of Trick’s will and desires. Tamsin passed a hand over them. She could smell the blood seeping through their pages. She wondered, was it here? The one the Blood King used to trick her kind all those centuries ago? Tamsin’s fingers searched delicately over the books. Could the Blood King’s work be undone?

“Hey, I think I found something,” said Kenzi. Tamsin snapped out of her trance, stepped away from the books. Now was not the time.

Tamsin walked over to Kenzi. She was holding a small box in her hand, staring at it curiously.

“What is it?” asked Tamsin.

Kenzi shrugged. “Dunno, but it was on his desk. Maybe he was looking at it recently.”

Kenzi sat on the couch, box clutched firmly in both hands. “Maybe it’s more of that black smoke,” she whispered, half serious.

Tamsin rolled her eyes. “I doubt it,” she said, sitting next to Kenzi, the box between them.

“Well, only one way to find out,” said Kenzi, opening the box, as they both leaned in for a closer look. A flash of gold whizzed between their faces, both of them jumping out of the way in shock, as the metal imbedded itself in Trick’s ceiling. A short, golden shaft with a sharp pointing tip.

“святое дерьмо,” said Kenzi. “What was that?”

Tamsin shook her head. “That’s not…” _Possible._ It couldn’t be, could it? After all these years. Even from her position on the couch, as the light flickered off it, she could make out the scripture on its side. Small and powerful, burning bright with a promise on its tip.

Kenzi was on her feet, standing on the couch and reaching up to pull it from the ceiling. “What is this, some sort of dagger?”

“No,” said Tamsin, “it’s a spear tip. _My_ spear tip.”

~~

_The Valkyrie ran through the field, heavy armour wearing her down. The churned up mud splattered her boots, reached half way to her thighs. This place smelled of death; a battle had been fought, and won, here, at terrible cost._

_Fae._

_She could smell them: their fear, their power. Their bodies had been removed, perhaps to prevent a peasant from the nearby human village stumbling across them. That was if the village was still intact. She had come across many ransacked villages on her travels – both sides needed to feed, and the poor, innocent, ignorant humans were easy prey._

_She wondered if her bounty had been here. She inhaled deeply, sensing past the fear and the blood… there it was, the stench of the Sigbin. It was unmistakable. She tried not to gag as the air become suddenly thick; her prey had been here recently, maybe a few hours ago, recent enough that the trail was still easy to pick up. She had a hefty reward waiting for this one, and she wasn’t about to lose it._

_The Valkyrie let her nose guide her; the Sigbin’s odour was distinctive and lingered even during the windiest of storms. It led her to a clearing with a makeshift camp; army tents waved in the breeze, the soldiers from that last battle regrouping before they moved onto the next one._

_She swallowed. All her instincts telling her to run, but this bounty was too good to let go. It was here, she could smell it; the stench stronger than ever._

_She was off her game, tired from her search, nearing the end of this life cycle. These were the excuses she told herself when the soldiers came up behind her and caught her by surprise._

_They striped her of her armour, her weapons, any dignity she had left and took her to their leader. He was short for a fae, but the power radiated off him all the same. They shoved her to her knees, hands behind her back._

_“You’re no Sigbin,” he said, his voice cold, hard._

_She said nothing, the only defence she had left. She would not allow this dwarf any advantages, silence was her shield._

_He leaned forward, lifted her chin up so he could look directly in her eyes. “No, you’re a Valkyrie.”_

_She tried not to flinch. How did he know? Her kind were mostly all but legend now. But this one, this one knew who she was, what she was capable of, and it did not petrify him. Who was this fae?_

_There was only one fae ever powerful enough not to fear her kind. It couldn’t be could it?_

_“You know who I am?” he asked. She nodded. There was no one else it could be. “Say it.”_

_“Blood King.”_

_~~_

_“I have a job for you Valkyrie,” said the Blood King. The height he gained atop his horse only made him all the more formidable. His party followed behind, strong and obedient. She walked obediently too; she would not allow his soldiers the pleasure of dragging her behind them._

_“And if I refuse?” Because even outnumbered, defenceless, she was still defiant._

_“If you refuse,” said the Blood King, anger dripping off his voice, “my blood will make it so you never existed.”_

_She shivered because she believed him, but she had met evil worse than him, and she’d gone through too many cycles to give up now._

_“What do you want me to do?”_

_They had stopped, and she watched as the Blood King stepped off his mount with more grace than she would have thought a man of his size capable of._

_“There’s something I need you to collect. In there,” he gestured behind him._

_“A cave?”_

_“It’s not a cave,” said the Blood King, “it’s a temple.”_

_She raised an eyebrow. She’d never heard of a temple disguised as a cave before, and wondered what was inside it that made the Blood King reluctant to go himself._

_“So what is this thing I’m collecting?” she asked._

_“A scroll,” said the Blood King, “you’ll know it when you see it.”_

_She made to move forward but the Blood King stopped her. “A pledge, in blood, I think,” he said as he pulled out his dagger. “Don’t want you running off.”_

_She laughed. Did he really think she would pledge her allegiance to_ him _, of all people._

_“Do this, and you will have your bounty,” he said. “The Sigbin; it’s locked up back at our camp.”_

_And because she was greedy, and a little curious, she took the oath._

_After, the soldiers pushed her forward towards the cave entrance. She looked back longingly to her weapons strapped to one of the mounts, her spear glinting merrily in the sunlight. But the soldiers didn’t offer her any, and the Blood King started to pace impatiently; it looked like she’d be facing whatever was in that cave on her own with nothing but her Valkyrie._

_The cave was dark; she stepped forward cautiously, one arm reached out against the cave wall to guide her until her eyes adjusted to the gloom. It felt endless, hopeless, but she moved on, determined to find this scroll and get the hell out of there and back to her bounty._

_It felt like hours, but she finally glimpsed light ahead of her; torches mounted to the cave walls on either side. Someone was here._

_She inched forward slowly, tried to keep her breathing under control, as silent as possible. As she moved forward a figure came into view. The firelight from the torches danced of his metal armour, the shiniest silver she had ever seen._

_The knight stood still, her presence unnoticed. She wondered if she could slip past him; maybe he was dead? She swallowed her nerves and stepped forward. She jumped backwards as a metal plated arm shot outwards, barring her passage._

_The knight was awake and looking at her through his visor._

_“Who… who are you?” she asked._

_“I am the watcher of the gate,” said the knight, his voice deep and raspy. It reminded her of cold steel._

_She looked past him._ What gate? _All she could see was more of the same endless black cave walls._

_“Okaaay,” she said. “Well, I’m looking for this scroll thing, so if you could help a girl out…”_

_She jumped when that cold voice sounded again. “Only those whose destinies lie with the night may enter the temple.”_

_“Right,” she said. What the hell had this Blood King got her into? “So, I’ll just go then?” She had no idea what the stoic knight was talking about and all her instincts were telling her to get the hell out of there, Blood King be dammed. But something stopped her. A flickering of light behind the knight; there was something there, calling to her. She shivered, told herself once again to run, but instead of heading back towards the cave entrance, back to the Blood King, her feet carried her forward._

_This time the knight didn’t stop her. She stepped past him and suddenly she was in a tall circular room, brightly lit. At its centre stood a plinth, atop it sat a scroll so old it was fraying at the edges. Around the room sat twelve more knights, still as death, but somehow she knew they were guarding this thing._

_“What is this place?” she breathed. She turned back to the knight, the one who called himself the watcher of the gate._

_“The prophecy can only be read by those worthy,” said the knight. Prophecy? So that was what the Blood King was after. “But be wary, child, for what you find there cannot be changed.”_

_She stepped towards the plinth. The scroll was written in a scripture so old, so very old, but she could understand it, the language was not one the Blood King would have been able to comprehend. She read it, this prophecy, and her blood ran cold._

_She reached out, it couldn’t be real, she had to touch it to prove it wasn’t real, but as soon as her fingertips touched the ancient text the knights began to move, sat up to attention, hands reaching for swords. This prophecy was not meant to leave this place._

_She stepped back, watched as the knights relaxed back into their enduring watch. She stepped past the gatekeeper and the room vanished before her eyes._

_~~_

_“Well?” said the Blood King._

_She shook her head. “There was nothing there.”_

_“You’re lying,” said the Blood King, his jaw clenched. His soldiers made to grab her, but she pushed them away, standing strong and defiant. “Think about what you are doing. Remember who I am.”_

_“I know who are, Blood King, all too well,” she said._

_“You pledged fealty,” he said angrily._

_“Oaths can be broken,” she said, but she was wary of his anger all the same._

_He raised his dagger and she thought for a second he was going to cut her down, but he tossed it aside, reached for her spear and snapped the shaft in half as though it were made of brittle bone and not welded throughout centuries of war and blood. It felt like someone had snapped her arm in two._

_“Remember this, Valkyrie,” said the Blood King, trailing the golden tip of the spear against her cheek, “you owe me.”_

~~

“What are you doing?”

Tamsin snapped back to the present. Trick stood in the doorway, the anger clear on his face. Tamsin swallowed and saw Kenzi slip the spear tip into her back pocket.

“Uh…” said Kenzi, “waiting for you. We need your help. _Bo_ needs your help.”

“What do you mean?” He was talking to Kenzi, but his eyes never left the Valkyrie’s.

“Bo went after the Wanderer,” sighed Kenzi, “used that black smoke stuff.”

“What?” said Trick.

“So we thought you could help, use your blood,” said Kenzi, “do that thing you do.”

Tamsin watched him. In the year that she had been here, it was hard to imagine Trick, the bar man, the doting grandfather, was the same Blood King she met all those years ago, but that glint of anger, that small hint of maliciousness was still there, deep down. She could sense it, and it terrified her.

“No,” said Trick, with all the finality in the world.

“What?” said Kenzi, her voice cracking. “But this is Bo, you have to help her.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” said Trick, “and I certainly don’t have to explain myself to you: a human and a low life. Now get out.”

“But-“ began Kenzi, but Tamsin tugged her arm, pulled her towards door. Shook her head: _not now._

“Wait,” said Trick. He reached out his arm. “You have something that belongs to me.”

Kenzi clenched her jaw, but handed over the spear tip anyway before storming out. Tamsin followed, suddenly wary of the small Russian woman.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?” said Kenzi as they left the Dal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> святое дерьмо means holy shit in Russian, according to Google Translate.


	5. Chapter 5

Bo had been wandering about these stupid woods for hours. None of it looked familiar. How was she supposed to find the site where she got off the train if all these damn trees looked the same?

Part of her felt like giving up. It was suicidal going after the Wanderer anyway. This was the part of her that sounded like a combination of Dyson and Lauren; the faces of her ex-lovers earnest and pleading, telling her to stop, _think._

But she had to know. Had to find out what happened to her on that train, what the Wanderer wanted with her. She kept moving, hoping against hope that she would see something she recognised, a landmark, anything that indicated she had been here before.

Bo stumbled on, backpack containing the jar with the black smoke strapped tight to her back like a lifeline.  She reached a clearing, it looked much the same as the rest of the forest, but she could sense something here, something dark. Bo shivered. She was positive she hadn’t been here before, but deep down she felt like this was the place. She didn’t know why or how, she just knew.

With trembling hands, Bo took off the backpack and reached inside for the jar. Tamsin had warned her that when she opened the jar, let out the black smoke, the Wanderer’s minions would be summoned, but Bo was more than ready for a fight.

Her fingers made to prise the lid off. The sound of a snapping twig behind her made her still her hand. Bo whipped around, dagger in her hand in a flash.

Dyson and Lauren. How had they found her?

“Here to stop me?” she asked, tightening her grip on the dagger. She would take them out if she had to.

“No, Bo,” said Dyson. “We’re here to help.”

Bo looked at them. Dyson’s open face, so eager to please, Lauren’s hardened guilt. She didn’t believe them, couldn’t. They would do anything to protect her, even if that meant stopping her from doing what she wanted.

“I don’t believe you,” said Bo.

“Bo, we want to make this right,” said Dyson.

“It’s going to take a lot to gain my trust back,” said Bo.

“We know,” said Lauren.

It was weird, seeing them united like this; they both wanted the same thing, it was always that way between them. So similar in many ways, yet different all the same. Bo thought she preferred it when they were rivals for her affection. They still were, in a way, but not the same as before. Now they shared a common goal. Bo didn’t think her relationship with either of them would be the same again.

“Okay, fine,” said Bo, “but just stay back.”

They nodded. Bo kept the dagger close by, took a deep breath and opened the jar.

The black smoke came whooshing out, like when you open an oven suddenly and all the steam pours out. It began to whirl about, like a tornado, forming into shapes that morphed into figures.

“Bo?” said Dyson, hand on his gun.

“Its okay, this is supposed to happen,” said Bo. “I think.”

The smoke solidified, and suddenly Bo felt very outnumbered. There was about ten of them, the Wanderer’s undead minions. They were dressed in black rags, their faces pale, grey looking.

“Okay,” said Bo, “so which one of you fuglies is gonna take me to the Wanderer?”

“The female wishes to see the master,” hissed one of the minions.

Bo couldn’t help but shudder as its tongue slithered out. “What’s with the hissing, snakefang?”

“Bo, I really don’t like this,” said Dyson, as the minions began circling them, trapping them in.

“Yeah, well, what did you expect?” said Bo. “We are dealing with the Wanderer.”

“This one smells of death,” hissed a different minion.

“You can talk,” said Bo, eyeing the undead thing up and down. She was pretty sure she spotted a maggot crawling into its left ear. “Now, can you take me to the Wanderer or not?”

“Methinks the female wants a fight,” hissed the first minion. “Methinks the Master would not be pleased if she were to reach our realm.”

“You want a fight pal, you got it,” said Bo and lifted up her right foot to kick the minion in the solar plexus.

“Here we go,” said Dyson. Bo saw him right hook one of the minions from the corner of her eye but had her own problems to deal with as one came down on her from her left side. She slashed her dagger outwards, caught it across its chest then sent it flying with a well-placed kick. She whipped around to fight the next one, saw Lauren stab one in the neck with a syringe and push the plunger down; the minion went down like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell is in those things?” said Bo, swerving a fist and shoving the minion into a tree.

“A very powerful tranquilizer,” said Lauren breathlessly, “enough to take out an elephant.”

“Nice,” said Bo and jammed her dagger into a minion’s left shoulder.

They were winning this fight. Bo grabbed the minion closest to her, dragged one arm behind its back and shoved it against a tree as Dyson shot two more with his gun.

“Now,” Bo murmured in its ear, “if you don’t want to end up like your friends, you’re going to tell me how I find the Wanderer.”

The minion looked around at the mass of bodies on the forest floor before its eyes rested on Bo. “You can’t kill us, deary, we’re already dead.”

“Yeah,” said Bo, “but I bet it still hurts like hell.” She shoved her dagger into its side and it screamed out in pain, its breathing ragged. “How do I find the Wanderer?”

The thing pointed with a bony grey finger. Bo looked round; there was a patch of ground near a dying tree where the grass had turned black as if nothing were able to grow there. She hadn’t noticed it before, but she felt sure that this was it; her ticket back to the train.

“But only you, girly,” hissed the minion. “The Master doesn’t like visitors.”

Bo stood up, wiped the blood off her dagger and replaced it in her boot with determination.

“Bo, you don’t have to do this,” said Dyson.

Bo turned to face him. He was staring at her with that sad puppy dog look of his, like all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and pull her to safety. Lauren stood behind him, a similar look on her face.

“Yeah,” said Bo, “I kind of do.” She looked away from them and jumped.

~~

She landed on the train. One second she was in the forest, the next in a train carriage. It was the same as she remembered, still chugging along on its endless journey. And there was no sign of the Wanderer. She didn’t quite know what she had been expecting, but this emptiness, this silence, wasn’t it.

Bo moved cautiously through the never ending carriages. _How long was this train?_ They all looked the same; empty, abandoned, as if no one had been here for a very long time. But she _had_ been here, recently. So where was that carriage she woke up in?

After what felt like hours of silence, Bo heard a noise up ahead. It was like the screeching of metal, it sounded faint, from the next carriage. Bo picked up her pace, still wary, but eager to end this, eager to come face to face with the Wanderer at last.

She propelled her way into the next carriage, stopped suddenly. _Him._ A man dressed in black, his back turned.

“Are you… are you the Wanderer?” Bo asked.

Bo jumped as a cold cruel laugh sounded behind her. “He’s not the Wanderer,” a voice croaked. “He just does his bidding.”

Bo whipped around. A woman sat on the floor next to the door, her wrists and ankles shackled in chains. No. Only one wrist was shackled. The other arm was missing a hand.  Bo hadn’t seen her in her desperation to find answers. She glanced back at the man; he was tall and he wore a welder’s mask, blow torch in one hand. His head turned to face Bo, but he paid her the merest of glances before returning to his task and ignoring her completely.

“What’s he doing?” asked Bo.

“Bitch, do I look like I’m in charge around here?” said the woman, shaking her chains so that they clattered against each other. “How the fuck should I know?”

Bo bit her tongue, swallowed her anger. This woman could help, could possibly lead her to the Wanderer and it would do Bo no good if she let her anger get the best of her now.

“Who are you?” Bo asked.

“Oh, I’m just someone who pissed off the Wanderer,” said the woman. At Bo’s raised eyebrow, she added, “name’s Acacia.”

“Hello, Acacia,” she replied, “I’m Bo.”

Acacia stilled, then laughed long and hard. Bo looked around, missing the joke. “Did I say something funny?”

Acacia stopped laughing as abruptly as she started. “So you’re the succubus; the one that’s caused all of our problems.”

“How do you know who I am?” asked Bo, her heart suddenly racing.

“We have a mutual friend,” said Acacia, her eyes growing dark and Bo suddenly doubted the strength of her plan to find the Wanderer. This was a mistake. Every ounce of fear inside her suddenly rose to the surface, threatened to consume her.

“You’re… you’re a Valkyrie,” said Bo. “Stop that!” she demanded and Acacia’s face went back to normal.

Bo breathed heavily. That was not pleasant.

“Stupid girl,” the Valkyrie muttered. “3000 years, and she’s never choked once,” said Acacia, “not until you.”

Bo looked up, confused. Then she realised who the Valkyrie was talking about. A mutual friend: Tamsin. Three _thousand_ years? Damn, that girl looked good for her age.

“She’s probably dead by now,” said Acacia, “he probably killed her.”

“Tamsin’s not dead,” said Bo. “What do you mean she choked?”

Acacia’s eyes snapped up. “She failed to bring you in, defied his orders,” she said. “You must be something pretty special, succubus, the Wanderer doesn’t take too kindly to those who betray him. And even their friends pay the price,” she added, raising her stump.

“The Wanderer cut off your hand?” asked Bo.

Acacia smiled bitterly. “He doesn’t exactly do subtle.”

“Where _is_ the Wanderer?” asked Bo.

“He got out,” said Acacia. “That son of a bitch found a way out.”

“What do you mean?”

“This was his prison too. You should get out of here,” Acacia said suddenly.

Bo shook her head. “No, not until you tell me where I can find the Wanderer.”

“I don’t _know_ where he is,” said Acacia. “I told you, he got-“

They both lurched violently as the train screeched to a grinding halt. Bo landed on her back, but quickly pulled herself to her feet, looking around wildly. “What the hell…” she muttered.

“Shit,” said Acacia, fighting with her bonds frantically with one hand.

“What?” said Bo. “What’s going on?”

“The train stopped,” said Acacia, looking at Bo through bedraggled strands of her greasy hair. “The train _never_ stops. You should go,” said Acacia, “ _now.”_

“No,” said Bo, “I’m not leaving without you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Acacia, “you don’t even know me.”

“And that means I’m just going to abandon you here?” said Bo, rushing forward to help the Valkyrie with her chains.

The Valkyrie grabbed the front of Bo’s shirt, pulled her closer so they were looking each other right in the eye. The Valkyrie studied her, questioned her silently; she was looking for something, Bo didn’t know what. “You really are something special, aren’t you,” said Acacia. “Tamsin sure can pick ‘em.”

Bo just stared, no idea how to respond to that.

“She really still alive?” asked Acacia. Bo nodded. The Valkyrie shook her head resignedly. “There should be tools over there.” She gestured behind the welder, still busy at his task, completely ignoring the two women. “There’s bound to be something to get me out of these bonds.”

Bo grinned. She stood up, slipped her way past the welder. He hadn’t even flinched when the train stopped. She wondered if he was like the Wanderer’s other minions, undead, with slithering snake like tongues. Bo shivered and pushed the thought away. She grabbed a chisel and hammer ( _that should do the trick)_ and hurried back over to Acacia.

Bo got the bonds off in no time and pulled the Valkyrie to her feet, smiled in satisfaction at her work, but the smugness vanished when she saw the look on Acacia’s face. Before Bo could open her mouth to ask what was wrong, Acacia had pushed her out of the way.

“Bo, look out,” Acacia yelled, but her words were cut off as the welder pressed his blow torch against the Valkyrie’s chest and pulled the trigger.

 _Idiot._ Why the hell hadn’t she been paying attention? She’d let her guard drop, forgot where she was, and now someone else was paying the price. She should have realised when he hadn’t reacted to the train stopping. Should have realised he was Acacia’s jailer and wasn’t about to just let his prisoner walk free. _Idiot._

The welder lifted his blow torch, aimed it at Bo’s face. But the succubus was too fast for him; her dagger flicked out of her hand without her even thinking about it and buried itself in his chest, dark blood oozing out around it. He stumbled back, fell into his welding bench and didn’t move.

“Acacia,” said Bo, reaching for the other woman.

“Go,” said Acacia. She was struggling to breath, but she still had enough strength to try and push Bo away with her one remaining hand.

“I already told you I’m not leaving without you,” said Bo. “So get on your feet.”

It was a struggle, but Bo managed to lift the Valkyrie up and guide her towards the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Bo landed with a crash. Every bone her body felt like it was breaking. She was aware of someone calling her name, but it was like her ears just didn’t want to work properly, like she was so very far away from everything she had ever known, ever was. She could just lie here forever, forget about everything, everyone; like how the hell she was going to fix things with Dyson and Lauren, the thing that was brewing between her and Tamsin, if there was a thing... It was so tempting, so freeing, just to let all her problems fall away, but then she remembered: the Wanderer was out there, somewhere, planning his next move.

Bo’s eyes snapped open. She was back in the forest; no broken bones, but there was a dull ache in the small of her back. She couldn’t feel her legs; and a moment of panic shot through her before she realised that the weight of a Valkyrie lay sprawled across her. _Acacia._ The Valkyrie’s dead weight sent pins and needles shooting down her legs. She sat up, gently pushing the Valkyrie off her.

“Oh, Bo, thank God,” said Lauren, “for a second I thought…”

“Lauren,” croaked Bo, “what the hell happened?”

“You tell us,” said Dyson. “You’ve only been gone four minutes.” He eyed Bo up and down then glanced at the older woman lying unconscious on the forest floor.

“What?” said Bo, trying to stand up. Lauren pushed her back down, checking her pupils and pulse before nodding in satisfaction that Bo wasn’t seriously injured. “I swear it’s been longer than four minutes for me. Hours… days, I don’t know. Time feels different there.”

“The train?” asked Lauren. “You made it?”

Bo nodded. At her feet, the Valkyrie groaned. “Lauren,” pleaded Bo, “you have to help her.”

“Who is she?” asked the doctor, moving towards her new patient. The older woman was conscious, but her skin was as pale as death, her breathing ragged. Lauren examined the wound, but her eyes darted up to Bo and she shook her head slightly.

“Acacia? Acacia, can you hear me?” said Bo, grabbing the Valkyrie by the shoulders.

“You… you have to stop him,” muttered Acacia weakly.

“The Wanderer?” said Bo. “How do I find him?”

“No, not the…” The Valkyrie’s eyes flickered shut.

“Acacia?” said Bo, shaking the older woman. “Acacia?”

“Bo, I’m sorry,” said Lauren, pulling Bo away, “she’s gone.”

Bo sat back on her heels, utter defeat filling her soul; her last link to finding the Wanderer gone. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t get back on the death train - all the Wanderer’s undead minions had seemed to have disappeared, that black portal thing in the ground gone. When she had received that jar of black smoke, when Tamsin had told her what it could do, Bo had been so hopeful. Scared, yes, but confident that if she got back on that train, everything would be solved, would make sense again. But nothing did. Bo was more lost than ever.

“She looks like she’s been through hell,” Dyson commented, gesturing to the dead woman’s missing hand. “Who was she?”

“Tamsin,” Bo said suddenly.

“What?” said Dyson.

“This woman, Acacia, she was a Valkyrie,” said Bo. “She knew Tamsin. The Wanderer cut off her hand when Tamsin failed to bring me in. Don’t you see? I need to find Tamsin. She’s the only person I have left that can give me any answers.” Bo leaped to her feet, but Dyson stopped her before she could go anywhere.

“Bo, slow down,” he said, hands on Bo’s shoulders, trying to calm her down. “What the hell happened on that train?”

“The Wanderer,” explained Bo, “he’s escaped.”

~~

The sun was beginning to set low on the horizon, its last rays illuminating the gloomy scene. To Tamsin, it felt too bright, like the world had no right to be so hopeful, to still turn on its axis as if nothing was wrong.

The Wanderer was out and Acacia was dead. As Tamsin buried her mentor, her _friend_ , she held back the tears, because the older Valkyrie would have been mortified to see them; she had been a fighter, a warrior. Valkyrie’s did not cry, they thrust their spears into their foes and fought the battle until the war was won.

The others had stayed back, sensing that this was something she needed to do on her own, and for that, Tamsin was grateful. She did not think she could have done this with an audience, with Kenzi eyeing her worriedly, with Bo impatient for answers. Besides, she had no answers to give, none that would satisfy the succubus anytime soon anyway.

Tamsin stood over the unmarked grave as dusk turned into night; the only sign of emotion, of affection, was the small flower she placed carefully on the freshly turned dirt. This was not the way it should be. Valkyries deserved so much better than a hole in the ground.

She could have stood there for an eternity and still she would not have been able to come up with the words to make this right; Acacia was dead because of her, because of her failure, because she had let the impossible woman with eyes both brown and blue get into her head. But, she knew, if she could go back, she would not have changed her decision for the world.

Tamsin did not feel the cold as the wind picked up, was aware of nothing until Kenzi slipped her hand into hers and gently pulled her towards the car, towards home.

~~

In the days that followed, Tamsin spent her time at the Clubhouse, eating bad ice cream and watching what Kenzi considered to be ‘feel-good’ movies in an attempt to cheer her up. Tamsin went with it, mainly because it seemed to make Kenzi more relaxed seeing Tamsin doing something normal and eating something, anything, despite its questionable nutritional worth.

So she put on a smile, pretended she was feeling better and let Kenzi wash her with attention.

“Okay, time for another one,” said Kenzi, jumping off the couch and moving towards the DVD player.

Tamsin groaned. “Not another Disney movie. You know cartoons are stupid, right?”

Kenzi scowled at her as she swapped disks. “We are _not_ watching The X Files again.”

“I never said the ‘X’ word… although, now that you mention it…”

“ _No,”_ said Kenzi firmly.

Tamsin rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I’m going to need booze for this,” she said, pulling herself to her feet. “You want one?”

“I always do,” Kenzi quipped.

Tamsin grabbed two brewski’s out of the fridge just as Bo stormed into the clubhouse, looking a little worse for wear; her hair a tangled mess, dirt all over her face, clothes ripped and covered in blood and one hell of a murderous glare.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Tamsin, taking a swig of beer.

“You would think,” said Bo, snatching one of the beers out of Tamsin’s hand a taking a long mouthful, “that considering he’s one of the most evil dudes we’ve come across, someone, somewhere, would know where to find him.”

“No luck with your under fae contacts then?” said Kenzi sympathetically.

Bo shook her head, downed the rest of the brewski and slammed the empty bottle on the countertop and gripped the edges in frustration.

“You weren’t really expecting to find him so easily, were you?” asked Tamsin.

Bo glowered. “No… but what’s he doing? How long has he been out of his prison and why hasn’t he come for me?”

“Who the hell knows. Just be grateful he hasn’t,” Tamsin said softly. Her hand moved of its own accord to rub Bo’s arm comfortingly, but it just felt awkward and Tamsin was grateful when Bo moved away, breaking the contact. Things had been stilted between them since Acacia’s funeral. Tamsin could tell that Bo had been anxious to interrogate her on everything she knew and was grateful for Kenzi’s intervention to give her some time; the young Russian had managed to convince her bestie to wait a few days, but Tamsin sensed her time for silence was rapidly running out. She wasn’t ready to spill all, not yet, but Bo’s frustration and anxiety was making the succubus more and more erratic every day and Tamsin worried she would do herself serious injury on her quest for answers. Watching Bo fall ever deeper into this downward spiral was making her heart ache and she would do anything to stop Bo from falling, even if that meant facing her own sickening fears.

Tamsin drained the rest of her beer; she was _way_ too sober for this conversation. She looked at Kenzi, could tell the human was having a hard time seeing her best friend like this too. Kenzi met her eyes, saw the look of determination on her face and sighed reluctantly in approval.

“Okay you,” said Kenzi, “spill it.”

Tamsin sighed as she lowered herself onto the couch. She wasn’t ready for this, but she was never going to be, so just best to get it over with, damn the consequences.

“And you can start with that thing with Trick,” Kenzi added.

Bo’s head snapped up. “What thing with Trick?”

“Tamsin and I decided to do a little snooping,” Kenzi explained, “’cos we all know the Trickster knows more than he lets on.” Bo nodded in agreement. “Anyway, turns out blondie over here and our favourite barman used to know each other back in the day.”

“Wait, what? You and Trick knew each other?” fumed Bo. “Why the hell did no one mention this?”

“Because I couldn’t remember it until after my _Liv gått av_ ,” Tamsin said defensively.

“Your live gucci?” asked Kenzi.

“It’s an ancient Valkyrie ritual,” Tamsin explained. “Valkyries can choose to undertake it during their last life cycle. It sort of enhances the memories of past lives, makes them clearer, like you only lived them yesterday.”

“Oh,” said Bo apologetically, “so that’s what you did when you were gone. But Trick remembered, why didn’t he ever say anything?”

Tamsin shrugged, avoided the succubus’ eyes. Why would the Blood King choose to play all his cards at once when he could wait the game out and take the jackpot? Trick was devious, careful, he did not mention his encounter with the Valkyrie because he was waiting to see what her first move would be, what she would do. And he was still waiting. He had her spear and her blood oath; whether she liked it or not, that was going to come back to bite her in the ass one of these days.

“And what was with the spear?” asked Kenzi.

Tamsin sighed; hesitant to discuss the most treasured secrets of her kind, even with the two people she cared about most in the world. Not that it mattered now anyway, the glory days of the Valkyries had long since gone.

“A Valkyrie’s spear is her most valued weapon,” Tamsin explained. “We use them in battle to claim the souls of fallen warriors, carry them to the halls of Valhalla where they drink mead and tell tales of their battles for the rest of eternity.”

“Sounds like a lame party,” muttered Kenzi lightly. Tamsin smiled warily. Bo was staring at her, in shock or in awe, Tamsin couldn’t tell, but the succubus was gesturing eagerly for her to go on.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Valkyries get pretty attached to their spears – it’s like another limb, part of them, we feel lost in battle without it.”

“So what happened?” asked Bo. “How did Trick end up with it?”

“Now that’s a long story,” Tamsin mumbled, picking at the label on her empty beer bottle because it was easier than looking at Bo.

“It’s okay, Tams,” said Kenzi softly, gripping Tamsin’s knee affectionately, throwing all her support into that one gesture. Tamsin knew that no matter what she said now, she would not be judged by the woman sitting in front of her. She wasn’t so sure about Bo; Tamsin had a feeling she was about to shatter the succubus’ world view.

“Centuries ago,” Tamsin began her tale, “back when I was a bounty hunter, I ran across the Blood King. These were the days when the Blood King reigned in full power, where to defy him was treason and death was almost certain. He asked me to do a job, wanted me to find something for him, and made me swear an oath in blood.”

“What happened?” asked Kenzi.

“I failed, broke the oath,” said Tamsin. “The Blood King snapped my spear, kept the tip as a promise that I would one day fulfil the oath that I had vowed. Like I said, it’s like losing an appendage.”

“Wow,” said Bo flatly, “my grandfather really is a dick.”

Tamsin laughed. “The Blood King, yes. Your grandfather, I’m not sure.” And she wasn’t; she feared the Blood King, yes, but Trick would do anything to protect his granddaughter, of that she was sure.

“Yeah, but he took your spear,” said Bo genuinely distressed by this, much to Tamsin’s surprise.

“Elskere kysse _,”_ muttered Tamsin.

“Huh?” said Kenzi. “Would you quit speaking Valkyrie, it’s hurting my head.”

“Elskere kysse,” repeated Tamsin. “Valkyrie’s name their spears, it’s sort of tradition.”

“What does it mean?” asked Bo eagerly.

Tamsin cleared her throat. “Lovers kiss,” she mumbled.

Kenzi snorted.

“Shut up,” said Tamsin, ignoring Bo’s sly smirk, “I was going through my ironic faze.”

“Whatevs,” said Kenzi, “and on that note, I’m going to bed.” She stood up and stretched like a cat, waved them goodnight and headed up the stairs.

Tamsin suddenly felt exposed; her Kenzi shield had gone - nothing to barricade the distance between her and Bo. She did not like this, revealing her past, her mistakes, it felt like she was an open wound and Bo was the salt waiting to be poured all over her.

“So,” said Bo, “what did Trick ask you to do?”

Tamsin shrugged. “Just a job,” she said. “It was a long time ago, it doesn’t matter now.” Except that it did. Since remembering her meeting with the Blood King, Tamsin had thought of little else. What she found in that cave was more terrifying than the Wanderer and the Blood King put together. Tamsin was part of what was to come, and this was a job that she would not be allowed to fail.

“Bo,” Tamsin began, “there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Bo shook her head. “No, whatever it is, it can wait. I can’t deal with any more info dumps right now, not with the Wanderer out there, somewhere… besides, no one’s about to die, right?” she added in jest.

Tamsin looked away, a sad smile on her lips, but she heeded the succubus’ wishes and let it go for now.

Tamsin lifted her eyes sharply when she heard the succubus begin to giggle. “What?”

“Lovers kiss,” chuckled Bo. “It’s not exactly you, is it? I would have expected something more like Deaths Fury.”

“Deaths Fury?” Tamsin rolled her eyes, so not in the mood for this.

“Oh!” explained Bo, practically jumping up and down on the couch. “How about Soul Reaver? Or Dragonfire!”

“You’re insane, you know that?” said Tamsin, but she was smiling despite herself.

Suddenly they were both laughing hysterically, and it felt good, to release all that tension. She hadn’t laughed in days, not since Acacia’s funeral, and for a second she almost forgot everything; the Wanderer, the Blood King and his prophecy, all the stupid and violent things she had done, the mistakes she had made. Everything slipped away until there was nothing but her and Bo, the woman who should never have been real, sitting in front of her, the most tangible thing that Tamsin had ever seen. It wasn’t fair; she had fought so hard to stay away, to hate the succubus and everything she stood for, but the damned unaligned fae had sucked her in. Tamsin was too far gone to look back now.

Suddenly it was all _too_ real. Bo’s face sobered up, the laughter dying away, leaving an odd look on the succubus’ face. Tamsin watched as Bo leaned closer, felt warm breath on her cheek. She shut her eyes and ended up back in that cave, that temple, surrounded by twelve knights, the plinth at the centre bathed in light. She hadn’t understood the significance back then of her passage beyond the gate, had not fathomed why the Blood King had chosen _her_ for a task that so many of his loyal subjects would have been so eager and willing to do. She had read the ancient language, written so long ago and found no comfort in those words.

Tamsin stood up abruptly, cleared her throat and avoided the succubus’ confused look. She would not allow herself to get hooked in any more than she already was. Better to keep her distance, better for them all, she so did not need to become the fourth wheel in Bo’s already complicated love life. Whatever she was feeling, whatever that slight tug in the pit of her stomach meant, she would ignore it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Liv gått av_ means lives gone by in Norwegian - translated from google translator


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bo finally gets some answers in this chapter. To those of you who are wondering, this is a valkubus fic, it will happen, eventually, but Tamsin's a tough shell to crack and Bo still needs to move on from the wonder twins. Give it some time. Enjoy.

Sleep eluded Bo that night. Images kept racing through her mind: the Wanderer, Trick… Tamsin. One minute they had been talking, laughing, then the Valkyrie’s face had turned innocent, so vulnerable, as her eyes had flickered shut. Bo had been so sure something was going to happen as the tension sparked between them, found herself more than a little disappointed when Tamsin moved away, with no explanation, nothing.

She had definitely preferred the easy-going animosity that had existed between them before Tamsin’s rebirth. They had had their moments then too, but it had been less… confusing, easier to cover up with excuses like Bo needing to feed, the influence of her dawning invitation. There was less complication back then, Bo knew where she stood, but she couldn’t deny that things had been brewing for a while, even if neither of them were willing to acknowledge it.

Not that Bo needed to add any more complications to her love life. She had enough problems with Lauren and Dyson; figuring out what she wanted was like tiptoeing through a minefield – any misstep could lead to a blow out that she was not ready, or willing, to deal with at the moment. But that didn’t stop her mind from thinking about the blonde Valkyrie; the way her lips had tasted on Yule, that little smirk she wore when she was being a sarcastic badass, how she dared to look so good in leather, what she looked like _underneath_ all that leather…

Bo sat up in bed, punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape and lay back down again. She hadn’t fed properly in days, a meagre snack here and there, nothing substantial enough to satisfy her unquenchable succubus thirst. At least, that was the excuse she was telling herself for why she couldn’t get the Valkyrie out of her head and she was sticking to it. So she decided to think about something else, anything apart from the frustrating blonde asleep in the next room. Anything to stop her from speculating about those kisses, because Tamsin had been the one who had kissed her first, no explanation, just _that_ look on her face and not a word of it again. Not that Bo had mentioned it again either, but it was still there, hanging between them in lingering looks that they both pretended not to notice.

_Right, supposed to be thinking about something else…_

Which wasn’t hard either; she had plenty of problems to choose from, her loving grandfather for one. Just what else, exactly, was Trick keeping from them? And why not just admit that he had once met Tamsin back in the day – why all the secrecy? What exactly had he asked her to do? It seemed to Bo that there had been nothing but secrets and lies since she first met Trick four years ago. He knew more about the Wanderer than he let on, she was sure of it. She was his granddaughter; surely she deserved more from Trick than half answers and misdirection? Bo was tired of it, all of it. As soon as the sun came up, she decided, she was going to find Trick and demand the answers to all of her questions.

Bo slept better now that she had a plan of sorts, but her dreams were riddled with unpleasant images; a tall dark circular room, surrounded by the remains of burnt out candles and, high above, the squawk of a vulture’s cry and the fluttering of wings.

~~

Bo woke up early, showered and dressed before the sun had fully risen. She was just finishing pulling on her boots when Kenzi shuffled into the room, a slice of toast in one hand, and casually threw herself onto Bo’s bed.

“So, what’s the plan BoBo?” Kenzi asked through a mouthful of toast.

“The plan,” said Bo, pushing Kenzi slightly until she took the hint and picked herself up off the bed, “is to go confront Trick and find out how the hell we find, and stop, the Wanderer.”

“Good luck with that,” Kenzi muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kenzi shrugged. “This _is_ Trick we’re talking about.”

“I suppose,” said Bo, conceding the point, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I have to try, Kenz – I can’t just sit around waiting for the Wanderer to make a move. I need to fight this head on.”

“What’s with all this ‘I’ business?” said Kenzi, “we’re all in this together.”

“Right,” said Bo. She loved the fact that Kenzi would always have her back, but she wasn’t about to let her best friend get in the line of fire because of her. It’s why she had been so determined to get back on that train on her own, to fight this fight alone, why she was pushing Lauren and Dyson away – she couldn’t risk the Wanderer using them, any of them, to get to her.

“Oh, I know that look Bobolicious,” said Kenzi sternly, pointing an accusing finger, “and it’s not happening.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Bo innocently as she tugged her jacket on.

“Lies!” hissed the young Russian woman.

Bo grinned. “You coming or not?” she called from the top of the stairs.

~~

Bo stormed into the Dal, Kenzi and Tamsin hot on her heels. Trick was dutifully behind the bar, polishing glasses and getting the place set up for the day.

“Bo,” said Trick when he saw them, his voice was low, harsh, no sign of the lovable gramps persona. “You’re alive. Not that I would know, considering no one bothered to call me to tell me if you made it off that train alive.” He shot Kenzi and Tamsin an accusing glare. They both glared right back; Bo saw Tamsin’s eyes go dark and decided to intervene before she could go full Valkyrie on him, her blood oath withstanding or not.

“Your right,” said Bo, soothingly, “I should have called.”

Trick’s gaze returned to his granddaughter. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you?” asked Bo reproachfully.

“Of course,” said Trick.

“Then why won’t you tell me what you know about the Wanderer?” Bo tried to keep the anger from her voice, but it like was fighting all her succubus instincts and keeping it in her pants during a wet t-shirt competition: impossible. “Because you know something, don’t you?” she asked.

“Bo…”

“Don’t lie to me, Trick,” snapped Bo. “Just tell me what you know.”

The barkeep sighed. He looked past the succubus and glowered at Tamsin. “What did you tell her?” he spat.

“No,” said Bo, “don’t you dare drag her into this. Tamsin didn’t even remember your little encounter until a few weeks ago.”

“So she claims,” said Trick.

Tamsin laughed hollowly, shaking her head as if she didn’t quite know what she was even doing there. “You know what, I think I’ll leave you guys to it.” She made to leave the bar but Bo grabbed her wrist.

“Please,” Bo pleaded, “stay.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted the Valkyrie to stay, all she knew was that Tamsin had always been honest with her when it came to the Wanderer, that she regretted taking that bounty and felt responsible for Bo’s initial excursion on that train. Bo needed her to stay because she didn’t believe a word that came out of Trick’s mouth, but she believed _her_ , believed in Tamsin to do the right thing. Bo tried to convey all this in one look, tried to make Tamsin understand that she couldn’t do this without her. Tamsin was her one constant when it came to the Wanderer. Tamsin had come across him, feared him, _betrayed_ him and she was still standing, still fighting. It made Bo feel like she could do anything, accomplish everything, if only she had Tamsin’s strength by her side.

Eventually, Tamsin nodded and understanding passed between them. Bo turned back to her grandfather. “Start talking.”

Trick sighed; he glanced between the succubus and the Valkyrie, realising that they weren’t going to let this go.

“All I know of the Wanderer is half-truths and rumours, bits and pieces I’ve put together over the centuries,” said Trick. “The Wanderer is old, older than time itself.”

“Who is he?” asked Bo impatiently.

“He goes by many names,” continued Trick, ignoring his granddaughter’s outburst, “Wanderer, Allfather… Odin.”

“Odin?” said Kenzi. “Like that dude Anthony Hopkins plays in Thor?”

“That movie isn’t historically accurate,” informed Tamsin.

Kenzi shot her a disbelieving look. “That shit’s real?” she breathed.

Tamsin smirked. “Not exactly.”

“Hold on,” said Bo, trying to shake the confusion out of her head. “Are you saying the Wanderer is some sort of god?”

Trick shrugged. “That I can’t be sure of. He’s powerful, yes – but a god? I honestly don’t know.”

“If he’s so powerful, then how did he get stuck on the death train?” asked Bo.

“He was trapped there, imprisoned,” said Trick.

“Why?”

“Because he went mad,” Trick explained. “His wife was a seer; she saw violent visions of the future and what she saw always came to pass.”

“Let me guess,” said Bo, “she predicted something the Wanderer wasn’t too happy about?”

Trick nodded. “The Allfather refused to believe her. He became so desperate to prove her wrong, that in the end he killed her in order to change what she foresaw.”

“What did she see?” Kenzi asked softly.

“The end of days,” whispered Tamsin, staring into space as if she was looking at something that had long since gone.

“Drama queen much?” muttered Kenzi, but Bo could tell the Russian girl was more than a little freaked out by Tamsin’s worrying admission. Heck, so was Bo.

“Okay,” said Bo, “that doesn’t sound ominous.”

“Frigg, Odin’s wife,” Trick elaborated, “foretold the fall of the gods at Ragnarok.”

Ragnarok? Bo had heard of it, some vague reference deep down in the recesses of her mind, some old school project that she had probably never finished.

“Okay, so the Wanderer, _Odin,_ got freaked out by this, killed his wife… then what?” asked Kenzi.

“Odin vowed never to allow Ragnarok to pass,” said Trick. “He began building an army with the lost souls of the warriors in the halls of Valhalla. Odin would stop at nothing, so he was stopped, sentenced to limbo, to wander in eternity.”

“Who sent him there?” asked Bo.

“That, I don’t know,” said Trick. “All I’ve told you I learned from books and stolen whispers passed on through generations; the accuracy of which I cannot be certain.”

“Tamsin?” asked Bo. “Care to shed some light.”

The Valkyrie seemed to snap out of some sort of trance; Trick’s tale had been a revelation to her as well it seemed.

“Sorry, succubus, all before my time,” said Tamsin. “The Allfather is legend even to my people.”

“But you met the Wanderer,” said Bo, trying to gage if the blonde was hiding something.

“I met an evil so great it made the blood in my veins turn to ice,” said Tamsin. “He didn’t tell me his name and no matter how hard I try I can’t remember what he looked like.”

Tamsin met Bo’s eyes. She saw real fear there and wondered just how long the Valkyrie had been running from this, why the hell she hadn’t turned Bo in the first time she had met her.

“So this Ragnarok, this great battle – the fall of the gods – is it real?” asked Bo. “Will it happen?”

Trick shrugged. “Odin believed it to be so, and will do anything to stop it.”

“Wait,” said Kenzi suddenly, “if he was trapped in this prison, how did Tamsin meet him?”

“The Wanderer can only visit this plain,” explained Trick. “He cannot breach the walls of this existence, not fully, his power here is limited. What Tamsin saw was only a manifestation, not the real thing.”

“Plus, you met his little minions,” Tamsin added, “they tend to do his dirty work.”

“And Valkyries, apparently,” said Bo without thinking. Tamsin looked away, a fleeting flash of hurt on her face before it was gone and that hard exterior was back up, her face a wall of steel. Bo had been thinking of Acacia, the one-handed Valkyrie, not Tamsin, but now that she thought about it, what else had the Wanderer asked her to do over the years? And who else was working for him? Anyone could be: fae, human… any one of her friends without them truly knowing it could be a slave of the Wanderer. Bo shuddered. No, she couldn’t think like that, not now; she would not start second guessing everything and everyone she knew. If she was going to stop the Wanderer, she needed to have faith in those around her. She needed to trust that they had her back.

“So the Wanderer,” asked Bo hesitantly, “is he truly my father?”

“I don’t know,” said Trick, “you’d have had to have asked Aife to be sure, but I think it’s likely. You’re powerful, Bo. More than you know.”

 _Aife._ Someone else she hadn’t spared a second thought for since her return from the train; she had been too wrapped up in her own problems to wonder, or ask, if her mother had really died at Taft’s compound. Or maybe she was just kidding herself; maybe part of her just couldn’t handle dealing with the grief. They had never been close; Bo had only met her mother a handful of times, and most of that time Aife had been under the guise of Saskia, the succubus determined to take Bo under her wing and show her how their kind lived the high life. Their strained relationship did not leave Bo feeling any less pain or guilt over what had happened to Aife at the hands of Taft, and she vowed now not to let her passing be in vein, because in the end, there had been that one act of selfless love, one last shred of decency in her mother.

“I have a question,” said Kenzi. “If the Wanderer really has done the ol’ great escape, why the hell hasn’t he made a move?”

It was a question they had all been thinking, but no one had an answer to it.

It was all too much, she felt like she was having a sensory overload; there was too much information to take in all at once. If Odin was really her father, a god, what the hell did that make her? And why the hell had the Wanderer been searching for her for so long? Long before she was even born? What was it that Tamsin had said at Yule? _That thing would do anything to claim his ideal mate._

Bo shivered. She felt nauseous, light headed. She needed some air. She stumbled out of the Dal, vaguely aware of Kenzi calling after her, and barely made it outside before emptying her guts out onto the sidewalk.

Kenzi came up behind her and rubbed her back soothingly, pulled the hair out of her face as Bo felt her stomach lurch once more, this time bringing up nothing but bile.

“You want me to drive you home?” Kenzi asked.

Bo shook her head. “I just need some fresh air; walk around a little while, clear my head.”

“You sure?”

Bo nodded. She couldn’t handle the worried human right now; she needed to be on her own, think things through, figure out what the hell they were going to do, what their next move should be. She waved goodbye to Kenzi and started walking and didn’t look back.

~~

Tamsin had seen the colour drain from the succubus’ face and watched as she lurched her way clumsily out of the Dal. She wasn’t surprised; it had been quite the revelation. Her heart longed to follow, double check that Bo was okay, but her feet wouldn’t move. Besides, it wasn’t like she would have known what to say anyway. _Hey, sorry your dad’s some crazy psycho megalomaniac god hell bent on preventing a battle where he’s destined to die and may or may not want to claim you as his mate?_ No, she didn’t think so.

Kenzi had followed Bo, always had her besties back, that girl, and Tamsin suddenly found herself alone with the Blood King. She studied him; she still didn’t trust him, not after all he had done.

“Why didn’t you tell her the rest?” Tamsin asked. It wasn’t an accusation, she was just curious. _What game is he playing this time?_

Trick’s eyes met hers, the cold hard eyes of King used to getting his own way. “I’ve already let Bo down so many times,” he said. Tamsin was surprised at the frank sorrow in his voice, the open honesty on his face. It was a side of the Blood King she had never seen before. “Please do not destroy whatever faith my granddaughter has in me, no matter how little is left.”

And, if only because so much had already been said that morning, because Bo’s family became all the more dysfunctional the closer you scrutinised it, Tamsin agreed to keep quiet. For now. She would not be the one to destroy that faith, no matter how much it killed her to keep things from Bo.


	8. Chapter 8

Bo let her feet carry her about town with no real idea of where she was going. It was good to just walk and think, with no one there to add any more confusion into the mix, muddling her thoughts and making her question every little thing. She couldn’t even handle being around Kenzi right now, which was a first, and was glad when the Russian woman had let her go off on her own, given Bo the space that she needed to get her head around just what the fuck was going on.

The Wanderer… Odin; possibly her father, possibly not, but most definitely very powerful and most certainly batshit crazy. And this battle, Ragnarok, what role did she play in all this? There were still so many questions left unanswered.

It had gotten dark without her noticing. She looked around, realising that she had no idea where she actually was, too wrapped in her own head to pay any attention to where she was going. The air picked up, sending a chill around Bo that made her shiver. She was exhausted; her restless sleep the previous night was taking its toll and she felt fatigue creep down into her bones. She wanted to go home, collapse on her bed and not think for the rest of the night.

But stalling her mind was impossible; even now, echoes of her conversation from earlier kept repeating themselves in her head, Trick’s pieced together tale of the Wanderer and who he really was. She was mad at her grandfather for keeping the truth from her for so long, and it seemed like their entire relationship revolved around Trick keeping something from her. But she understood why he had been reluctant to part with the information. If what Trick had said was true (and Bo strongly suspected it was) they were seriously out matched. She did not know if, or how, she could possibly stop the Wanderer, or even if that is what she was meant to do – did the Wanderer even need stopped? Tamsin had called him the most evil thing she had ever met, but if he was Bo’s father, if he had truly spawned her, then surely he could not be that evil? And if he was, what did that make her?

Bo shivered again, but this time not from the cool breeze. She turned on her heel, made an estimated guess on the general direction of the clubhouse and started walking.

She didn’t get very far.

Bo halted; there was a figure up ahead that she was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago. She struggled to see them clearly through a dense mist that had swiftly arose, engulfing Bo and the mysterious figure making the succubus instantly heighten her guard – she felt like she had just walked into a trap. Her first instincts were to run, her second to stay and face her fear, and a small part hoped that this was the Wanderer, come for her at last, so that she could end this tonight.

But the figure didn’t seem malicious or hostile; in fact, he seemed to glint in the dim moonlight that had managed to breech its way through the mist, and Bo realised that he was wearing some sort of armour, polished so shiny that she could see her reflection. Bo let herself relax a little when the figure stood as still as a statue, as if studying her. They stood like that for a few moments and Bo half contemplated just turning around, running as if her life depended on it. But something compelled her to stay. She felt sure that the knight, for she was sure that’s what he was, was about to say something, but it was as if the mist had clouded her senses, like she couldn’t see or hear properly, like she couldn’t _breathe_. In that moment, everything felt wrong, and she felt her feet move backwards instinctively. She did not dare take her eyes of the knight, frightened of what he might do if she were to make any sudden moves. But any thought she may have had of escape soon vanished as more knights appeared, surrounding her, the mist enclosing as if it were suffocating her very soul.

There were twelve in all; twelve knights standing, towering over her. “Okay,” breathed Bo. She didn’t know where to look; everywhere she turned a knight stood tall and brave, blocking her path. “Did Kenzi send you to cheer me up? ‘Cos, although I do love a man in uniform, not to mention an orgy, I am so not in the mood,” Bo said, using humour as her shield against the panic that started to bubble its way through her.

But the knights did not take to her humour; one moved forward, the original, she thought, but couldn’t be sure. Bo moved back instinctively, only to find her back pressed tight up against one of the other knights. The cold steel of its armour seeped through her clothes and skin, unnatural and foreign.

The knight spoke, his voice deep and cold, muffled by his visor. “You are the chosen one,” he announced.

Bo blinked. This was not what she had been expecting; she had tensed for a fight, her muscles aching at the strain. She glanced at the other knights, but they stood still and silent. “Chosen for what?” she asked, and could feel her fear turn to irritation – she was so done playing games. “Who are you?”

“We are the Knights of the Twelve,” spoke the original knight.

“What is that, some lame ass boy band?” Bo quipped, but once again, her wit did nothing to stir the knights.

“Only the Chosen One can be bestowed the Tale of the Twelve.” The knight got down on one knee, presenting the succubus with a rolled up scroll, marred by time and neglect. Bo stared. Of all the weird ass shit she had seen in the last four years, this really reached the top. She stared at the knight, waiting for him to elaborate further, but he did not and she realised he would stay there on one knee all night and all day until she took the ancient scroll from him. With trembling fingers, Bo reached for the scroll, the paper felt rough in her hand and as soon as she touched it the mist cleared, and along with it, the knights, as though they had never existed at all.

Bo gaped around the empty alley, her brain trying to catch up with what the hell had just happened.

“Did anyone else just see that?”

~~

“Kenzi!” Bo yelled as soon as she had won her fight with the front door of the clubhouse, her fingers fumbling with the key in the lock.. “Kenzi!” she yelled again, slamming the door shut behind her. “Faecon one! Repeat - faecon one, this is not a drill!” She had ran the whole way home, her fist clutched tightly around the old scroll. Bo slumped against the couch, attempting to regain her breath. There was no sign of her best friend anywhere and part of Bo felt a bit bitter that she wasn’t there when Bo needed her. She pushed the thought away; she was doing that wrapped up in her own shit thing again and could feel the guilt seep into her weary bones.

But all thoughts of Kenzi abandoning her vanished as the small Russian bounded down the stairs, half dressed and wielding a baseball bat, with an equally dishevelled Hale in tow. You didn’t need to be a succubus to guess what they had been up to.

“What is it?” said Kenzi. “Is it the Wanderer? His little undead minions? I’ve reached level 27 of Call of Duty zombies, I so got this.”

“What? No,” said Bo, “this.” She thrust the scroll under Kenzi’s nose as the human relaxed and tossed the unneeded bat onto the couch. “Some band of merry knights appeared out of nowhere and handed me this.” Kenzi touched the scroll gingerly with the tip of her finger and scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“Knights?” said Hale, moving behind Kenzi to get a closer look. “Can I see that?” Bo handed him the scroll and the siren examined it closely, unrolling it carefully. Bo hadn’t had a chance to look at it properly in her haste to get home, to reach normalcy, but she stared at it now, at words written in a scripture that she didn’t understand, had never seen before, and although she could not comprehend their meaning she felt sure that those words spoke to her, that they concerned her.

“This is old,” said Hale quietly, as if they were visiting someone old and fading on their death bed, not in the presence of an ancient text, “really old.”

“Do you understand the language?” Bo asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hale shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Bo… I think this is a prophecy.”

~~

They headed to the Dal, usually the first place she would have gone if she hadn’t been so mad at Trick; but the barman had always been their source of information when shit just got too weird for the succubus and the human to handle. Trick seemed startled to see them, but smiled at his granddaughter as she walked in until he noticed the look on her face.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” said Trick. The bar was fairly empty, nearing last call, but Trick goaded the last of his customers out all the same, giving them some privacy. Bo slammed the scroll on top of the bar, watching her grandfather carefully.

“After all this time…”

“What is it?” demanded Bo. “Hale says that it’s some sort of prophecy.”

“How did you get this?” asked Trick, ignoring her question and never taking his eyes off the scroll.

“Some not so friendly knights appeared out of nowhere and handed it to me,” Bo explained. “Trick, what is going on?” she asked, tired of his bullshit and lies.

“The Knights of the Twelve,” said Trick, his eyes meeting Bo’s.

Hale snorted. “That old fae fairytale?”

“It’s no fairytale,” said Trick sternly.

“So it is a prophecy?” asked Bo.

“Yes,” said Trick.

“About me?”

“Yes,” he replied gravely. “I searched for this for many years; I had almost come to despair at its existence… but it turns out I was right.”

“What does it say?” asked Bo, dreading the answer.

“I don’t know,” said Trick, “this language is not of our world.”

Bo slumped into a barstool feeling deflated. What was the point of a prophecy if no one could read it? And what the hell did she have to do with anything? She was just… Bo, a succubus that didn’t know she was a succubus until four years ago, defender of humans and unaligned until someone else had turned her dark. She was nothing special, she didn’t even know who she was, she was lost. Those stolen memories from the train still left a whole in her heart, still made her question everything she thought she was.

“Okay,” said Kenzi, “so you can’t read it, but you knew what it was – you must have some idea what it’s about?” Kenzi looked just as Bo felt – pissed and confused.

Trick sighed. “Legend has it that the knights will only appear once, twelve nights before Ragnarok is to begin and bestow the prophecy upon the one who is chosen.”

“Chosen to do what?” asked Bo.

“Bring down the gods.”

Bo felt her blood run cold. It sounded so casual, coming out of her grandfather’s lips, like this was something she did every day, like defeating  a god was as easy as running her sword through some brain dead under fae. But it wasn’t just one god; it was _the_ gods, plural. She did not know how she was supposed to do this. She was tough, yes, but she was a succubus, this was bigger than her need to feed. She did not have the power to bring down something omnipotent, let alone several of them. She could not, would not, believe what Trick was telling her.

The scroll still lay on the bar, its elegant script mocking her in its stark contrast against the ancient parchment, incomprehensible, yet dangerous all the same.

“Yeah, but, you don’t know that for sure, right?” said Kenzi, her voice laced with disquiet, her fingers digging into Hale’s forearm.

“There’s only one person I know who can read this language,” Trick said stoically.

“Who?” asked Bo, but part of her already knew the answer. Who else has been involved in all of this shit from the start?

“Tamsin.”

~~

Tamsin did not know what to make of Kenzi’s brief phone call. She had been direct, to the point, “shit just got very real, TamTam.” The worry in her voice had been evident, but there was also a hint of warning there too, like she was trying to tell Tamsin that whatever she did next,  that she should be careful.

She didn’t know what to expect when she walked into the Dal, but it wasn’t Bo’s pissed off stance or the hot, blistering anger directed at her that came from the Blood King. And there, on the bar top, the last thing she wanted to see, the one thing she had been trying to forget since her _Liv gått av._

_The prophecy._

When she had first laid eyes upon it, all those years ago, Tamsin had not understood its significance, had not anticipated her role, her connection to the words it spoke. It had unnerved her, yes, and she knew the Blood King had sought it for a purpose, but she had been young, and foolish, and apprehending her bounties had been more important than anything the Blood King lusted after.

But now, as she glanced at the familiar parchment, its frayed edges and disturbing words, she understood fully what was to come with more clarity than anything in all of her many lifetimes.

“You did read it, didn’t you?” said Trick, his anger evident. But Tamsin was no longer afraid, not of him at any rate. What was coming was worse than anything the Blood King could do, and not even tomes of his blood could change what had been foretold.

Tamsin nodded, her gaze avoiding Bo; she could not look at the succubus, not now, not ever again, not without her heart wanting to split in two. “How long have you been searching for this?” she asked.

“Long before I ever came across you,” Trick replied.

“Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me about this?” Bo asked. Her voice had an edge to it, but there was a flatness there too, like she wasn’t really there at all.

“Because I couldn’t be sure,” said Trick.

“Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with me,” said Bo, the hope evident in her voice.

“It does,” said Tamsin. “Only those whose destinies lie with the night can view the prophecy,” she whispered, recalling the gate keeper’s words. It was all so clear now, so _obvious_ , how could she have not realised it sooner? _Because I didn’t want to._

“Huh?” asked Kenzi.

“Nothing,” said Tamsin, shaking her head.

“Read it,” Trick demanded, and the tone of his voice made it clear he would not take no for an answer.

Tamsin shook her head; she couldn’t. To say it out loud would make it real, would almost solidify the prophecy’s existence.

“You took a blood oath,” Trick reminded her. Tamsin met his gaze, not afraid of him and he knew it. Trick gritted his teeth, reached under the bar and slammed something down hard on the counter. She didn’t have to look to know what it was, could feel its presence, calling to her, reaching out, the missing part of her that had been lost for so long. “This,” he hissed, “is this what you want?”

 _Elskere kysse_. But not even her spear was enough to dissuade the Valkyrie. She could feel an unfamiliar burning behind her eyes, tried to school her features, put that Officer Slamsin mask back up - something that she was finding more and more difficult to do recently. The succubus stepped in front of her and Tamsin could feel her resolve slip away.

“Tamsin, why are you so freaked out by this?” Bo asked, and it was the earnestness in her voice that put Tamsin over the edge. “You’ve already read it, haven’t you?”

Tamsin nodded, wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye, cursing herself at her weakness.

“I knew it,” muttered Trick.

“Shh,” ordered Bo out of the corner of her mouth. “Please, Tamsin, whatever that thing says, I need to know. I need to know what’s coming, how to stop the Wanderer.” The succubus’ hands gripped Tamsin’s shoulders, forcing her to look into those dark brown eyes. Tamsin felt the breath catch in her throat. “Please, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it, together… all of us,” Bo added, glancing awkwardly at Kenzi and Hale.

Tamsin took a deep breath, pulled herself together and reached for the prophecy. Tamsin brushed a finger over the text, its ink as black as night in contrast to the faded parchment. It felt frail in her hands, and although she didn’t need the words in front of her to know what it said – she remembered reading them for the first time, clear as day, despite whatever amnesia shit the Blood King had pulled on her – it helped, somehow grounded her, to have them before her eyes; the graceful text, in a language so old and so familiar - the language of her kind, the language of Asgard.

Tamsin recited the words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to read the last line, not yet.

_Twelve nights and the army gathers before the storm;_

_Twelve nights and the one they call the Wanderer is reborn;_

_Twelve nights, the darkness and the dawn unite;_

_Twelve nights and the chosen one must fight;_

_Twelfth night and Ragnerok will come to pass._

“Seriously,” said Bo, “after all that, and it’s just some cryptic poem?”


	9. Chapter 9

“This had better be good,” said the Morrigan. Her entourage stood close behind her, looking typically dark in their black leather and sneering faces. It took Bo a moment to remember that, technically, she was one of them too and quickly wiped the scowl off her face, throwing the leader of the Dark Fae her perkiest smile.

“Evony, so glad you could make it,” said Bo brightly. Well, Trick _had_ told her to play nice, but she suspected she might be overdoing it a bit, if the look of mild disgust Tamsin shot her was anything to go by.

The Morrigan wasn’t buying it either. Her eyes narrowed, and she stared cold and hard at Bo as if trying to read the succubus’ thoughts.

“Please,” said Trick, coming out from behind the bar and gesturing for the Morrigan to take a seat. “As acting Ash I welcome you to my establishment - although this is still neutral territory,” he added.

The Morrigan snorted. The Dal Riata had always been slightly more tinged by the Light, but she didn’t seem all that bothered about Trick’s obvious ruse. Instead, she shot him a smug grin and sat down on the proffered chair, crossing her legs elegantly. “You should be the one that’s worried, old man,” she remarked. “After all, you’re the one that’s severely out numbered.” The Morrigan glanced briefly at Bo and Tamsin.

Bo suddenly felt unnerved by the Morrigan’s subtle implication in that one little look. No matter how many times they had argued over how Bo should pick a side, how it would be easier, how she would be protected, Bo still felt being unaligned was the safer option. Being unaligned meant not having to answer to anyone, not having to take orders and doing things you really did not want to do. Having a side, having a _boss,_ that meant doing what you were told. And Bo had never been really good at doing what she was told. And failing, or refusing, that had implications, no matter whose side you were on. She did not think the Morrigan would take too kindly to her orders being defied.

Tamsin did not look too pleased about it either; despite whatever her feelings towards Trick were these days. But she had chosen this side; she was dark by her own choice, unlike Bo, who had had the decision made for her by the mysterious Rainer. But that didn’t make it easier. Tamsin had changed since her rebirth, was no longer the same Dark Fae as she had been before. She was softer this time around. She was still as tough as steel, but there was a rawness about her that intrigued Bo. One of these days, when they weren’t surrounded by prophecies and undead minions, when the world wasn’t ending, she was going to sit the Valkyrie down and have a long talk about just what made her tick.

“So,” said the Morrigan, “you want to explain why this meeting couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Ever heard of the Knights of the Twelve?” Bo asked, placing the prophecy on the table in front of the leader of the Dark Fae. The Morrigan glanced down at it briefly, unimpressed.

“The Knights appeared to Bo last night,” explained Trick, “and bestowed upon her a prophecy – the very prophecy they swore to protect for millennia, until the Chosen One was found.”

The Morrigan chuckled. “And you expect me to believe that everyone’s favourite little succubus is this Chosen One?”

“Yes,” replied Trick forcefully.

The Morrigan rolled her eyes, but picked up the prophecy with a resigned sigh. “And I’m supposed to read this how?”

“You can’t,” said Trick. “The language is of Asgard.” The Morrigan shot him a disbelieving look. “Evony, you know this is legit,” said Trick, “you have a coveted Valkyrie in your employ.”

Bo watched as the Morrigan glanced lustfully in Tamsin’s direction. She didn’t know much about Valkyries, but she knew enough to know that they were rare, kept to themselves, that they served a bigger purpose than any other fae.

“You’re right, I suppose,” Evony conceded, “I have wanted a Valkyrie for a long time – I’ve always found them so… fascinating.”

Without knowing why, Bo felt the urge to step in front of Tamsin, shield her from the Morrigan’s influence. Something riled Bo about the way the Morrigan talked about Tamsin as if she was her property. But she knew the Valkyrie could take care of herself, she was a big girl, and probably wouldn’t appreciate Bo’s act of chivalry anyway.

“So what does it say?” Evony asked.

“It doesn’t matter what is says,” said Trick, “what matters is what it means.”

“What does it _mean_ then?” the Morrigan asked, rolling her eyes.

“Ragnarok,” said Trick. “A great war is coming.”

Evony laughed. “Really? You expect me to believe this?”

“You expect _me_ to believe you haven’t been keeping tabs of what’s going on around here?” said Trick.

The Morrigan shrugged. “I did hear about the succubus’ little train escapade, I’ll admit.”

“Then you’ll know about the Wanderer,” said Trick. “His power is getting stronger.”

“I fail to see what this all has do with me,” the Morrigan said, looking bored. “Sounds to me like your granddaughter has got herself quite the little problem.”

“Bo’s dark - she’s the Chosen One,” said Tamsin, “ _that_ makes it your problem.”

“Dark protect dark, don’t they?” said Bo, enjoying the Morrigan’s flash of discomfort a little too much.

“The prophecy says ‘ _Twelve nights until the darkness before dawn unite,’”_ explained Trick. “It means that the Light and Dark Fae will come to a truce. And that is what we must do, become one fae and fight the Wanderer together.”

Bo had been unconvinced by Trick’s interpretation of the prophecy; from her experience, the Light and the Dark were too far gone to come to any sort of peace. And from the look of things, the Morrigan shared her point of view. But they had already been up all night; Trick with his books, forcing Tamsin to recite those words over and over again until she snapped and wrote it down for him - and this was the conclusion he had come up with. That Bo was the Chosen One, destined to bring the Light and Dark Fae together, united in the fight against the Wanderer. Trick explained all this to the Morrigan, took her through each line of the prophecy until she could not deny its implication.

“Suppose I did believe what you say,” Evony said slowly, “what makes you think my side will accept this… truce?”

“Bo’s dark now, your people will rally if Bo is there champion,” said Trick.

“They will?” Bo said, sceptical.

“Perhaps some,” said the Morrigan, “but not all. I think you give the succubus more credit than she deserves.”

“Oh gee, thanks,” muttered Bo.

“Then deal with them,” said Trick, “you’re good at that, aren’t you?”

The Morrigan grinned at that, a little too proud of her own skills. Bo didn’t like where this was going. “It’s not me that will have to deal with them.”

 “What do you suggest?” asked Trick.

“If she wishes to persuade them, she’ll need to speak to the Elders herself,” said the Morrigan.

“Will that work?” asked Tamsin.

Evony shrugged and stood up. “Well, according to your little prophecy it will.” Evony made to leave but stop and turned on her heel, her entourage in sync with her movements. “What about the Una Mens? They won’t accept this unity.”

“I’ll deal with them,” said Trick.

“They’ll do anything to maintain those laws,” Evony pointed out, “even if that means killing the Blood King himself.”

“So be it,” said Trick. The way he said it chilled Bo’s blood. Despite everything he had done, all the lies he had told her, he was still her grandfather, her family. She couldn’t lose him, not now.

“Trick…”

“No, Bo,” said Trick, “all that matters is that you stop the Wanderer.”

“You’re not going to win this fight, not even with the fae united,” said Tamsin.

“You have a better idea?” Trick snapped.

“You need Valkyries.”

~~

“You okay?” Tamsin asked.

Bo hesitated with her key in the lock. She honestly didn’t know what she was feeling, beyond exhaustion. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed; forget about this stupid prophecy, bringing the Light and the Dark together, all of it.

“Stupid question?” asked Tamsin.

Bo nodded and laughed. She shoved the door to the clubhouse open, could swear it was getting stiffer. Actually the entire house needed some work, but that required money that none of them had. She and Kenzi hadn’t had a PI job in months, and things had gotten a lot tighter since they had a third mouth to feed. Not that Bo would have changed those circumstances for a second. She had actually enjoyed having Tamsin around, surprisingly. It had just taken this shit storm of a prophecy for her to realise it. Tamsin was there through it all, her one constant in this mess, keeping her grounded.

Bo stilled in the doorway, turned to face the Valkyrie who shot her a quizzical look.  “Thank you,” said Bo carefully. “Really, I mean it,” she added when Tamsin rolled her eyes and tried to pull away.

“I don’t deserve your thanks,” said Tamsin, shaking her head.

“Yes, you do,” Bo said firmly. “I don’t think I could have gotten through the past couple of weeks without you – this stupid prophecy, going back to that train…”

Tamsin looked away, doing that thing she had a habit of doing any time either of them said something or did something that was honest, that wasn’t buried underneath sarcasm or a hidden agenda; the Valkyrie was pulling away, putting her walls up. It made Bo want to shake her, demand her to listen, to tell her what she was really thinking. They never seemed to be on the same page at the same time, there was always other stuff going on. But she didn’t do any of that; Bo let it go, stepped aside and let Tamsin into the house.

“Where’s the draught coming from?” Kenzi moaned as she lumbered down the stairs, blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

“Enjoy your nap, short stack?” Tamsin asked through a yawn.

Kenzi ignored her and threw herself onto the couch. “How did your meeting with the Morrigan go?  Did she declare her undying love for you, Bo? Get down on her knees and pledge her entire existence to the Chosen One?” said Kenzi, making quotation marks with her fingers as she said “Chosen one” and smirking at Bo.

“Ha ha, very funny,” said Bo, shoving Kenzi’s feet slightly so she could perch on the end of the couch.

“Seriously, though,” said Kenzi, “did she buy it?”

Bo shrugged. “Not exactly. I’ve got to go to a special meeting with the Dark Fae Elders this afternoon.”

Kenzi scrunched her nose up. “Sounds fun. What should I wear?”

“You’re not coming,” said Bo.

“Why not?” said Kenzi, sitting up, the blanket slipping to the floor. “I’m your best friend. We’re team Benzi – we always do this shit together.”

“Team Benzi?” Tamsin said through a snort.

Bo scowled at the Valkyrie before turning back to her best friend. “Look, Kenz, this is the _Dark_ Fae Elders we’re talking about. I need to convince them to sign a truce with the Light Fae – that’s going to be hard enough without a human standing by my side.”

“Fine,” said Kenzi. “Me and TamTam will just have to find something to keep ourselves occupied.”

“Actually,” said Tamsin, “I’m heading out of town for a few days. Speaking of which – Bo can I borrow your car?”

“Only if you promise not to drive it over a cliff,” Bo replied, tossing Tamsin the keys.

Tamsin rolled her eyes. “That was one time.”

“Whoa, hold up,” cried Kenzi. “You’re leaving? _Again?_ ”

“Just for a few days,” Tamsin said reasonably.

“Where?” asked Kenzi.

“To get us some Valkyries,” Bo explained. “We’re going to need them to fight the Wanderer. Apparently,” she added. She had been unconvinced of that too; the prophecy had mentioned nothing about Valkyries, but Tamsin had been insistent. The Wanderer was building an army from the souls of the warriors of Valhalla – warriors that the Valkyries had stood beside in battle. They knew how they fought, would be able to anticipate their moves. And besides, Valkyries were born for war. Trick had agreed – better to have the Valkyries on their side than the Wanderer’s.

“Oh,” said Kenzi excitedly. “Can I come?”

Tamsin opened her mouth to reply but Bo cut her off. “Actually, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Are you kidding?” said Tamsin.

“No. You shouldn’t go alone,” said Bo.

“No offense, but what do you expect the munchkin to do?”

“Hey!” Kenzi protested. “I can hold my own in fight.”

“Sorry,” said Tamsin.

“I’m not expecting a fight,” said Bo. “Wait – are _you_ expecting a fight?” Tamsin shifted her feet awkwardly.

“Tamsin?” said Kenzi in her most motherly voice.

Tamsin sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly leave the last time on the best of terms.”

“What does that mean?” asked Bo, watching the Valkyrie carefully.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Look, are we going or not?” she said to Kenzi.

Bo and Kenzi shared a brief look, but the human didn’t seem to know what was going on either.

“Fine,” said Kenzi, “let me get dressed.”

Bo waited until Kenzi had disappeared up the stairs before grilling the Valkyrie. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” said Tamsin. Bo hadn’t expected anything different. Tamsin had never been very forthcoming when it came to being a Valkyrie, or anything else about herself in general, and Bo hadn’t exactly asked the right questions. She’d never even met another Valkyrie, thought about there being more out there, until she had come across Acacia.

“Hey, how are you holding up anyway?” asked Bo softly, realising it hadn’t even been a week since Tamsin buried her mentor, that the other woman had to still be grieving, even if she tried her hardest not to show it.

“Oh, I’m just peachy, succulette,” said Tamsin sarcastically. “Can we drop it?”

“Fine,” Bo snapped. She was too tired for this shit anyway. If Tamsin wanted to play the tough card, pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t, Bo was fine with that. “I’m going to go get some shut eye before my meeting.”

~~

Bo slept for few hours but still felt groggy when she woke up. Tamsin and Kenzi were long gone on their road trip by the time she had showered and dressed and the clubhouse felt strangely empty without them. She had a quick sandwich washed down with a large mug of strong black coffee before strapping her dagger to her thigh and heading out. Bo’s heart skipped a beat when she opened the front door to find Lauren and Dyson looking like they had been caught doing something the succubus would do for a quick snack.

“What are you guys doing here?” Bo asked.

“The Ash sent me,” said Dyson. “Trick wants light representation at this thing.”

Bo rolled her eyes. “What, doesn’t he trust me?”

Dyson shrugged. “I’m just following orders.”

“Trick told us about the prophecy,” said Lauren. “Are you okay?”

“Apart from the fact that the world might end in 12 days if I don’t stop it?” said Bo. As much as she didn’t want to talk about it, Bo was grateful for the friendly faces. Having Dyson and Lauren as her back up if this all went to hell was comforting, even if there was little Dyson could do on Dark Fae territory and Lauren was only human after all. But Bo appreciated their support all the same.

They took Dyson’s car and headed deep into Dark Fae land. The Elders had requested the meeting at one of the Dark’s oldest dwellings; a grand old house just a few miles out of town. The building took Bo’s breath away. It reminded her of those big old haunted mansions you saw a lot in horror movies. It was typically Dark in all its gothic grandeur, surrounded by a high wall and gate that looked like it was using both modern technology (judging by the security cams) and whatever the fae used as a security system to keep those who were unwanted out.

Dyson rolled the car to a stop as they neared the gate and Bo identified herself to one of two hulking Dark Fae security guards. They were expecting the succubus and let them through without a fuss. The gates flashed a bright, mystically red as whatever fae magic keeping the place secure was turned off and they were waved through. Bo turned in her seat to watch as the gates reclosed and that same red magic entwined itself around them once more, trapping them within.  Bo swallowed; if something went wrong here, there was no way they’d be able to escape.

“Don’t get nervous,” said Dyson soothingly, steering the car up the long gravel driveway.

“Who’s nervous?” said Bo. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Just don’t, you know… be you,” said Lauren from the backseat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Bo, shifting in her seat to face the doctor.

“Just try not to piss them off,” said Dyson. He parked the car and shut off the engine. More Dark Fae guards stood flanked at the large wooden doors to the house, creating the impression that those within were eminent and well protected. They stood aside to allow the two fae and the human inside and Bo felt the breath catch in her throat as she stepped through the threshold. If she thought the house was grand on the outside it was nothing compared to the splendour within, all marble floors and crystal chandeliers, like something out of a fairy tale.

“You like?” It was the Morrigan’s dulcet tones. Bo turned to watch the Dark Fae leader as she sauntered down a grand staircase, dressed in a well cut black dress that accentuated her curves. Bo felt her hunger spike but bit it back.

“It’s a little over the top, don’t you think?” Bo replied, trying to hide her unease.

“Well, considering where _you_ live, I’m not surprised that’s what you think,” the Morrigan retorted.

“Can we just get this over with?” said Bo.

“Of course, this way,” said the Morrigan gesturing for Bo to move ahead of her. “Doctor Lewis?” she added, noticing the human doctor for the first time, one delicate eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“I’m simply here for moral support,” Lauren explained.

“And our favourite Light detective, are you here for moral support too?”

Dyson shrugged. “I’m here on orders from the Ash.”

“Does the Blood King not trust us?” said Evony, pulling her face into a mock pout.

“You never exactly given him reason to,” said Dyson.

Bo felt the tension in the room rise, could sense it in their auras. Maybe allowing Dyson to come along wasn’t such a good idea. She was glad of the backup, but there was a reason she had left Kenzi behind; even if Lauren was working for the dark, she was still human, and Bo didn’t think the Dark Fae Elders would be too pleased about her presence. And Dyson had always been a favourite of the Ash, the very embodiment of Light and good. Bo did not see this going well.

“Look, maybe you should both wait outside,” said Bo.

“Not a chance,” said Dyson.

“Relax, succubus,” said Evony, “they can stay. Just tell the dog to remain on his best behaviour.”

Dyson’s eyes flashed feral, but a fleeting touch on the arm from Bo settled him down. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The Morrigan guided them through a set of heavy wooden doors that led into a large rectangular room with a long table at one end where the High Council of Dark Fae Elders sat, ten in all, nine men and one woman of varying ages. Bo imagined the room once being used for grand balls, where the socialites danced into the small hours of the morning. But now the grandeur was lost to time and the monotony of Dark Fae politics, and the general feeling of the room was like a great depressive weight on them all.

The Dark Fae Elders sat muttering to themselves but silenced abruptly and rose to their feet when the Morrigan walked in, confident in her high-heeled strut.

“Gentlemen, and _Lady_ ,” she announced to the Elders sitting at the high table, “Ysabeau, the succubus.”

Bo sensed ten sets of eyes on her and felt her heart racing. She suddenly felt very inadequate, standing there in this grand room with the most prominent Dark Fae in town facing her, judging her. Bo had no idea what she was doing there, felt the urge to run and not look back, rip up that stupid prophecy and pretend it was all some bad dream. But those knights had been real. Her experiences on that train (although she could not remember them all) had been real. And she could sense it too, that darkness coming, the end of all things if she couldn’t stop it. It was brewing, right around the corner, waiting for her to slip up so it could engulf them all.

Bo was the only thing standing in the way of the destruction of them all: fae and human alike, but she could not do that without the Dark and the Light joined together as one. And somehow she had to convince these Elders to sign a treaty, to end an animosity that had existed for centuries, all while they looked down at her as if she were something nasty they had stepped on.

She watched them carefully as the Morrigan outlined the facts to them, much like Trick had done earlier that morning. Their faces gave nothing away, and Bo felt any hope she’d had slipping away the more the Morrigan talked.

“And where is this prophecy now?” asked one of the Elders.

“With the Ash,” said Dyson. The Elder glared at him, as if outraged at his arrogance for daring to speak.

“You have my word that the prophecy is legitimate,” said the Morrigan.

“And what about the succubus?” asked another Elder. “Do we have your word that _she_ is legitimate?”

“She is Dark only by another’s hand,” the first Elder stressed, “how do we know this is not some Light Fae trick?”

“Then let her prove her worth,” said the Morrigan. Bo did not like that tone, and neither did Dyson, judging by the troubled look he shot her.

“What do you suggest?” asked the first Elder.

“There really is only one way,” said the only female Elder. It was the first time she had spoken and her voice sounded delicate compared to the harshness of the others. But Bo was not fooled by the female Elder’s elusive air; there was a sliver of ice about her, in the way she held herself, the way she spoke with authority on a council of men who could so easily undermine her if she let them. There was no female solidarity about this woman, only power, power that she would not relinquish regardless of her foe.

“The succubus must prove her worth,” continued the woman, “by killing the agent of the Ash. Only then will we consider a treaty with the Light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how well this chapter flows - it took me ages to write. Anyway, let me know what you all think.


End file.
